


Bound in Blood

by ConsultingTimeLord



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Blood and Gore, M/M, Protective Thorin, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-29 21:56:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/691908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingTimeLord/pseuds/ConsultingTimeLord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world not unlike our own, Bilbo Baggins, travel writer, runs into the mysterious Thorin, setting in motion an interesting sequence of events.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is really just meant to be a fun fic to supplement my love of vampires and how perfect of a vampire Richard Armitage would make. I hope you guys enjoy it.

Bilbo was happy to feel the crisp night air on his face after a long meeting with his editor. She picked apart his piece about his experience in India like a vulture to a carcass and it left him exhausted and more than a little frustrated. The wind combed through his blonde curls and stung his eyes enough to make them water but the feeling was no less welcome. 

He pulled his thick, red coat tighter around himself as he walked through the streets on his way home to his flat. The streetlamps that lined the sidewalks were bright but seemed few and far between when he ambled through the thick, heavy darkness. The street was oddly abandoned and silent save for the sound of his boots hitting the ground. It caused his flesh to freeze over as thousands of little bumps stood at attention.

A feeling of unease and self-awareness crept over him as he picked up his pace. He shoved his hands into his pockets and swallowed hard, his saliva sticking uncomfortably in his throat. Each breath caused a puff of smoke as it mingled through the air but he didn’t stop to appreciate the beauty of it. He could feel eyes from all directions boring into him, causing him to keep looking over his shoulder as he made a beeline for his flat.

A sigh of relief caused a stream of smoke like a snorting dragon as his building appeared in his line of sight. He visibly relaxed his posture and even a smile started to ghost across his face when something slammed into his side, swiping him as it flew past. Bilbo lurched forward, stumbling to try to stay standing as the dark form that hit him reappeared in front of him. He reached out his hands to catch himself on the pavement when another pair of hands caught his.

His balance was immediately restored as all of his weight rested on this other person. He found his feet again and stood up straight but the tall man before him still held his hands as if he thought Bilbo would fall at any moment. He wore a black leather jacket over a white shirt and dark jeans at least one size too big. Bilbo’s eyes moved up to the other man’s face and he felt instantly mesmerized. His pale skin was flawless, his hair dark, short, and well styled. His eyes were a deep, polished blue and he wore a kind, approachable grin, flashing a set of teeth that would make a dentist sick with envy.

“Er, hi?” Bilbo managed to sputter out in his awe and confusion.

“Forgive me, sir,” he said, his voice deep and rich like a dark melody. He looked down at their hands clasped together and let go. Bilbo almost didn’t want to. “I’ve carelessly run into you. I hope you’re unhurt.”

“I’m, uh, I’m fine. But thank you. I probably would’ve ended up with scraped up hands if not for you,” Bilbo said, feebly holding up the palms of his hands with a short, nervous laugh.

The man reached up and held one of Bilbo’s hands, stroking his palm with his thumb before looking down at him with a subtly seductive smile. “Well, we certainly wouldn’t want that.”

A second nervous laugh bubbled up from his throat. “No, right. Course not.” The man dropped Bilbo’s hand, leaving a tingling sensation where his fingertips trailed over his flesh. “Uh, oh, sorry. Where are my manners? My name is Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bilbo. You can call me Thorin,” he said, a hard-set expression on his face that said he wasn’t going to continue.

“Good to meet you, Thorin,” Bilbo said, tearing his eyes away from his face to look at his building behind him. 

Thorin’s eyes followed Bilbo’s for a fraction of a second, and Bilbo’s mind started to clear for that fraction, but it was unnoticeable as Thorin quickly turned all of his focus back on Bilbo. 

“I apologize,” he said, pressing a hand to his heart in a show of sincerity. “You must’ve been on your way home.”

Bilbo smiled but it wavered slightly. “Yes, actually. So, thanks again, but I should go.”

He stepped forward but Thorin was blocking his way again. Bilbo’s heart leapt. He never saw him move.

“Perhaps I could walk you, as a way of apologizing,” Thorin suggested, eyebrows raised in question.

“Er, thank you but it’s quite all right. My building is just there,” he said pointing behind him.

Thorin turned, picking out where he was pointing to, and turned back to Bilbo, wearing a grin reminiscent of a hungry wolf. “Then I guess I’ll take my leave. It was good running into you, Mr. Baggins.”

Thorin walked past Bilbo with one final glance but when Bilbo turned to respond, he wasn’t there. The street was completely empty as if no one but him had ever been there. His jaw hung in bemusement as he turned to look in every direction, wondering if there were some shortcut around he didn’t know about. After a minute, he gave up and slumped his shoulders, staring into the dark nothing.

“Yeah, you too,” he said to no one but the stars and moon above him.

He felt as though a strange fog he was previously unaware of lifted from his mind. His thoughts came in more clearly like finding a good station in a sea of static. The feeling of unease that once rested on his shoulders was gone, allowing him to walk the last stretch of street to his flat in relative comfort.

 

It was a relief to open the door of his flat and lock it behind him. The white walls were mostly bare save for a few pieces of art and maps he’d collected in his travels. Just about everything was covered in a thick layer of dust with the exception of his computer, desk, and bed. Bilbo flicked on the lights in the living area, dropped his keys on the small, round table just inside the door, and shrugged out of his jacket, leaving it on a bare wooden coatrack that looked like a leafless tree. 

On his way to his bedroom, Bilbo pulled off his tie and unbuttoned his white dress shirt. He left the tie on his work desk just inside his room and pulled off the shirt, about to discard it on the floor when he noticed a tear on the left arm. His brow creased as he picked at the frayed slice in the fabric. The edges were a dark red and a little damp. He checked his arm, twisting it into an awkward position until he could see a splash of blood in the weak lamp light.

“Ugh,” he groaned in irritation as he daubed at the blood with his right hand. It shimmered on his fingertips, making him feel almost nauseous at the sight. “Must’ve happened when Thorin ran into me.”

He pushed the sick feeling away and cleaned off the blood in his small, white tiled bathroom before applying a bandage. The day was starting to catch up with him as a yawn wracked his body. After switching off the lights, he didn’t have far to walk to his bed where he cast his shoes, socks, and trousers onto the floor. His warm bed was very welcoming, opening its arms to him when he pulled back the covers and crawled into its soft embrace. Sleep stole him away soon after but he found the odd Thorin on his mind just before he dropped away into his dreams.

And what dreams they were. The image in his head was like that of a poor satellite connection and it felt heavy on his brain. His body in the dream was hard to move, next to impossible, as he stood on the same sidewalk as earlier that night. He was alone, none of the streetlamps were on, and he couldn’t lift his feet to move anywhere. The building his flat was in stood tall in his line of sight, taunting him with safety he couldn’t reach.

He tried to swallow his fear but his mouth felt like it was full of cotton. All of his effort was going into trying to move his legs when he felt a pair of hands slide around his waist. Bilbo froze, stopping all attempts at movement as the unknown hands fingered the hem of his shirt, brushing against the skin just above his trousers. Breath, hot on his neck, sent shivers up his spine. He guessed who it was before he turned Bilbo to face him, his immovable body at his mercy.

He looked up into the handsome face of Thorin, staring down at him with the black eyes of a hungry predator. One of his hands trailed up to Bilbo’s face, stroking his cheek until his fingers came to rest under his chin, gently tipping his head upward to make it easier for their lips to meet. Thorin leaned down and pressed his soft lips to Bilbo’s, leaving a sweet taste of everything he could have.

The kiss was short, teasing, frustrating. He flashed a grin at Bilbo as he pulled away, relishing his torment. He infected him with the same hunger with that one kiss. Bilbo’s eyes dilated, his palms were sweating, he wanted more but he couldn’t move. Thorin knew and he toyed with Bilbo, brushing his lips along his jawline, flicking out his tongue like a snake to taste the salt and flesh. Bilbo trembled under him, a pathetic whimper seconds from escaping through parted lips. Thorin teased the whimper out of him, carefully placed touches from a hand under his white dress shirt, and it was like a trigger to him.

Thorin slammed Bilbo into the nearest wall and grabbed his face, leaning down into deep, starved kisses. His hands moved down to Bilbo’s shirt, tearing it open, raining buttons on the ground. His hands ran over his chest, his abdomen, settling at his waist as he pulled down on Bilbo’s tan trousers. They crumpled in a pool around his ankles after some effort, exposing his boxers, as Thorin’s hands followed down with them. Bilbo gasped, biting the inside of his cheek, when a loud beeping sound broke his dream apart.

Bilbo opened his eyes to blinding sunlight and sweat-soaked sheets. It took him a moment to realize he was awake and needed to move. When he did, he stripped his covers away from him and headed straight to his bathroom for a quick, cold shower. It served as a shocking wakeup call as the chilly liquid ran down his head and over his back and chest. His body shook reflexively but he cooled down from his heated dream.

He wasn’t sure where that dream spurned from. Those sort of thoughts rarely crept into his mind and they’d never been about men, but it wasn’t unwelcome. All he knew for certain was that Thorin really left an impression on him.

Once his shoulders started to go numb, he turned off the water and grabbed the towel on the rack just outside the shower. His wet curls stuck to his head and the towel around his waist threatened to fall as he cleaned up the dirty clothes he left lying around the night before. He kept one hand on the red cloth to hold it up while he put the clothes away and pulled out new ones.

He dressed quickly, pulling on a pair of black trousers and a blue dress shirt. He was doomed to another meeting with the company that employed him and needed to look his best as he suffered. After he pulled on his boots and slightly torn red jacket, he was out the door and on his way to work.

 

The day was long and passed by slowly. Each minute felt like an hour and each hour like a day. Bilbo’s thoughts were elsewhere, back on that street in the middle of the night, and his worked reflected that. When the day was through, he felt ashamed to send off what he’d done but he had no choice. All he could do was throw on his jacket and leave as fast as possible to escape the indignity.

He felt both hesitant and excited about walking home. His heart pounded against his ribs at the thought of running into Thorin again, though he knew logically that it was unlikely. In a city as big and busy as the one he lived in? It wouldn’t happen unless he actively searched for him. And Bilbo held onto that hope, though he would never admit it.

The night seemed colder than the one before but there were a lot more people, all on their way home or just leaving them for a long night out. He pulled his coat tightly around himself but air leaked through the rip on his left sleeve. He shook from the chills but ignored it and pressed on.

The closer he walked toward his flat, the less hope he harbored. The amount of people on the dark streets waned while the moon rose higher. Bilbo kicked at stones as he walked, allowing the sound of them skipping across the pavement to disrupt the quiet. It occupied his mind from the growing disappointment.

After a few minutes of kicking the same rock around, he started to feel uneasy, just as he had the night before. He felt someone watching his every movement, hunting him. Bilbo stopped abruptly and looked around. All he could see was a thick sea of black with patches of blinding light, illuminating nothing but what small area it touched.

“Thorin?” Bilbo called out, straining his ears to hear the slightest noise in response.

“You remembered my name,” said a voice at Bilbo’s right ear.

He jumped, his heart beating so hard his chest ached, and turned to see Thorin towering over him. He wore the same leather jacket with a black button-down underneath.

“I remembered yours too. Bilbo Baggins,” he said with a sly smile.

“Were you waiting here for me?” he asked, unsure if he should feel afraid or flattered.

Thorin shrugged. “I just happen to walk the same path home.”

He started to walk forward and Bilbo absentmindedly followed him. “Where do you live?”

“Nearby,” he said, looking everywhere but at Bilbo.

Bilbo frowned, staring down at his feet. “Is that it? Nearby?”

“Why do you want to know so much?” Thorin asked, glancing down at him.

He shrugged. “Curiosity.”

“Well, you know what they say about curiosity.”

“It killed the cat?”

Thorin laughed. “There certainly was some killing, yes.”

Bilbo looked up at Thorin questioningly but he didn’t bother to explain himself. He sighed yet he kept following after the enigma of a man anyway despite all of the frustration he was causing him. Bilbo trailed a little behind Thorin, as the taller man had longer legs and took greater strides. After a few minutes, he was starting to tire and sweat while Thorin looked like he could walk mile upon mile without feeling the slightest bit exhausted. He had to admit, he was a little jealous.

“Where are you leading me?” Bilbo asked, realizing he hadn’t exactly been paying attention to their route.

“I’m walking you home. I’m in no rush to go back to my own,” he explained as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“You—er. You remember where I live?”

“You did point it out to me,” he said, stopping in his tracks, catching Bilbo off-guard. “That’s it there, isn’t it?”

He pointed to a tall, wooden building just across the street from there they stood. He looked at Bilbo expectantly, waiting for a confirmation that he was right.

“Yeah, that’s the one…”

Bilbo’s mind started screaming at him, throwing up neon signs warning of danger, but as Bilbo stared into Thorin’s eyes, that all turned into white noise. Any independent thought he had melted away, leaving his brain silent. At least until another voice started to influence his actions.

“Would you like to come upstairs?” Bilbo asked, eyes dilated and vacant.

“I’d love to,” Thorin said with a smile, extending his arm in invitation for Bilbo to walk ahead of him. “In fact, I have a business proposal I’d like to discuss.”

Bilbo walked forward, opening the front door with Thorin on his heels. “Business?”

“I’ll go into more detail once we get to your place,” he purred in Bilbo’s ear, urging him forward.

They marched up a few floors until they reached Bilbo’s. He approached his door and fumbled with the keys in his pocket, prompting Thorin to take them from him and unlock the door from over Bilbo’s shoulder. He nudged Bilbo inside and locked the door behind the both of them before turning to face the zombie-like man. However, Thorin’s hold on him was starting to fade.

He blinked hard, trying to fight through the fog, trying to remember what his instincts had been warning him about. It was like a buzzing at the back of his mind: annoying, persistent, and enough to rise above his clouded thoughts. He rubbed his eyes like rubbing away sleep as if he thought that might help. He looked up at Thorin with a puzzled expression.

“You said something about business? A business proposal?”

Thorin sauntered toward him. “Well, it’s less of a proposal and more of a demand.”

“What do you mean?” he said, rubbing his eyes once more.

“I mean, Mr. Baggins,” he said stopping before him and grabbing a hold of Bilbo’s jacket lapels, “that when I want something, I tend to simply take it.”

Bilbo swallowed hard and looked up at Thorin’s face even though the buzz in his brain was fighting against it. His eyes were completely black and his wide grin showed off a pair of sharp fangs in place of his canines. Anything Bilbo might’ve said evaporated, replaced only with mind-numbing fear. Without waiting for any sort of reaction from him, Thorin ripped away Bilbo’s jacket and entangled a hand in his blonde curls so he could pull his head to the side.

“Wh-why are you doing this?” Bilbo sputtered, helpless in his impossibly strong grip.

Thorin laughed, a deep, dark rumble in his chest. “Because I like you, Bilbo. I’ll think you’ll be of use to me.”

Before his mind could register what was happening, Thorin sunk his teeth into Bilbo’s neck, drinking deeply from the vein. The pain was sharp and ran through him like an electric shock but it slowly became euphoric. He could feel his own warm blood running down his neck, his chest, surely staining his shirt. He fell limp in Thorin’s arms and Thorin cradled him carefully, like a child. A wave of light-headedness swept over him. He felt dizzy. And tired. So tired. 

He closed his eyes as Thorin continued to feed, feeling at ease and ready to sleep for a long, long time. Unconsciousness stole him away a few seconds later, delving into blackness fully believing he’d never open his eyes again.

 

Whether it was minutes or hours or days later, Bilbo suddenly became aware that he was, in fact, awake. The realization was somewhat of a shock for him due to how certain he’d been that he was going to die. He moved his hands first; they felt stiff from staying in one position for so long. As he moved the rest of his body, he discovered that every muscle felt in the same unused state. It didn’t take long to work out the stiffness, however, which came as a pleasant surprise.

He sat up and opened his eyes to a pitch black room, unable to see anything until, for some reason, he could. His eyes adjusted quickly and he was looking through the night like anyone would in the day. He stole a sharp intake of breath and his lungs screamed in protest, causing him to double over. He felt scared to try and breathe after that but after a few seconds of holding his breath, he realized his didn’t feel the pressing need for it. There was no panic for survival, no strain in his chest. He didn’t need to breathe.

“What’s going on,” he whispered to himself as he surveyed the area.

He looked down to see that he was sitting on a metal table, not unlike the ones he’d seen before in hospitals, and both he and the table were in a room with no windows. Bilbo stood up to investigate further when the only door in the room opened with a deafening creak. He covered his ears to protect them as he watched for who might walk through. It was almost unsurprising to him to see Thorin amble in.

His jacket was gone but Bilbo could see blood splashed down the front of his black shirt. Bilbo’s own blood. Thorin smiled warmly as if he were greeting an old friend.

“How are you feeling?” he said, coming to a stop a few feet away from Bilbo.

“I don’t know. I’m not even sure what’s going on,” he replied, lowering his hands from his ears.

“Don’t worry about the noise, you get used to it over time.”

Bilbo’s hands curled into fists. “Stop avoiding my questions. What did you do to me?”

“I made you like me, Bilbo,” he said matter-of-factly as if it cleared everything up.

“Like you?”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “A vampire. The undead. A child of the night. Whatever horrid description you want to use.”

Bilbo looked down at his hands. They looked significantly paler in spite of the tan he’d received during his travels. “Why?”

Thorin sat down on the metal table. “I told you before. Business.” He looked Bilbo up and down and fought back a smile. “And maybe a little pleasure.”

Bilbo would’ve flushed if his blood had still been pumping. “What business?” he nearly growled.

“Allow me to show you.”

Thorin slid from the table and glided around Bilbo to the door, beckoning him along. Bilbo reluctantly walked forward, guarding his ears as Thorin opened the door. He walked through to see a crowd of people, of vampires, sitting around as they talked and laughed. They were of all different ages, some older, some young, most about Thorin’s own age based on appearance alone. As soon as Bilbo walked into view, they stopped and looked up at him. Soundlessly, Thorin appeared at his side with his hand on the small of Bilbo’s back.

“Boys, this is Bilbo Baggins, our final addition. Bilbo,” he said, looking down at him before sweeping his hand over all of the twelve vampires, “welcome to my company.”


	2. Chapter 2

Bilbo smiled nervously and gave a short, shaky wave. “Hi.”

The room was still and silent as Bilbo dropped his hand and his weak attempt at a friendly smile. The twelve vampires stared hard at Bilbo, unblinking, their eyes burning into his flesh with interest and skepticism. None moved, none spoke, and the lack of needed breath caused the silence to roar in Bilbo’s ears.

Bilbo resisted the urge to try and interrupt the unsettling lack of sound when one of the youngest in the group stood and approached the newcomer. His shaggy hair fell around his face in dark, unruly curls and the look in his equally dark eyes could’ve cut diamonds. The stubble on the lower half of his face made him look older than he probably was when he died but the expression of burning curiosity beneath it gave away his true youth.

Just behind him, another of the younger ones hovered protectively around the dark-haired vampire. He had a head of short, well-groomed blonde hair and an aloof demeanor, pretending as if he didn’t care one way or the other. 

Thorin backed away from Bilbo as the two vampires advanced, allowing his company to examine the new member. Both of them, brothers, Bilbo figured, circled Bilbo like vultures to freshly dead prey, looking him over as his nerves twisted his stomach in knots. The dark-haired one sniffed him, making Bilbo feel significantly more uncomfortable.

“He still smells human,” he said as he looked back at Thorin, an Irish lilt touching his accent.

“Of course he does, Kili. He’s recently deceased,” Thorin replied, the tone in his voice saying he was trying hard not to roll his eyes.

“Yeah, Kili,” the blonde man said mockingly.

Kili glared, baring his fangs. “Shut up, Fili.”

Bilbo ran his tongue over his teeth and felt that they were perfectly normal, squared off. He turned to Thorin with a question on his face and he knew what he was going to ask before the words could leave his lips.

“You’re still in the transitional period,” Thorin said with a slight shrug. “It doesn’t happen overnight.”

Bilbo nodded as if everything he was experiencing made perfect sense to him. He knew all he could do at that point was adapt and accept. His whole world had been a lie and he needed to learn the new rules. Thorin could’ve told him that dragons were real and Bilbo would simply nod his head in agreement. 

He stared into Thorin’s eyes and he could see sadness and loss in them as he looked at Bilbo. Thorin placed a hand on Bilbo’s back and steered him through the crowd to one of the doors at the other end of the room.

“That’s probably enough for one day. I understand how… overwhelming this all can be,” Thorin said softly. 

The vampires parted as Thorin and Bilbo walked through, respectfully making space for him.

Just as Thorin grabbed the door knob for a door on the right of the back wall, Kili called out. “Uncle, what are we going to do about tonight?”

“No hunting. Not tonight,” he said simply, without turning to face him.

He pushed open the door and let Bilbo go through first, following closely and closing the door behind him. As soon as it clicked shut, they both could hear the company talking in hushed tones but their words sounded like a different language to Bilbo. He started to think that it might’ve been. The room they entered smelled like dirt and must, stronger than the rest of the house. He looked down at the floor to see that the boards and foundation had been ripped up so they were standing on the earth. It felt soft and malleable under Bilbo’s shoes, as if it had been dug into many times.

Several hammocks hung from the high ceiling on metal hooks, each ending at different heights. Bilbo wandered over to one that rested at his waist and he sat in it, swinging a little as it adjusted to him. Thorin pulled himself into one higher up that hung across from Bilbo. They sat like that for a while, in silence save for the muffled whispers that drifted under the door. Bilbo realized Thorin was waiting patiently for him to say something. Anything.

“So. Vampires,” he said with a nod, looking up at Thorin.

Thorin stared at him for a few seconds before a series of laugh lines crinkled his eyes for a fleeting moment. A small, genuine smile. It made Bilbo’s stomach flutter.

“Yes. Vampires,” Thorin looked down at his hands. He was wringing them as if he could squeeze blood from the pores.

“If I’m not a vampire yet then what am I?” he said, wondering what Thorin was thinking but not daring to ask.

Thorin glanced up, scanning Bilbo’s face. “A halfling of sorts. In between human and vampire.”

Bilbo wrapped his arms around the hammock straps, softly swinging. “And what does that entail exactly?”

“Well, your body is physically dead. Not to the point of rotting. The blood we drink gives our bodies the nutrients they need to stay together. You do need blood, though not as much as a fully turned vampire.” Thorin spoke to his hands, his right resting in his left as his left thumb traced the lines on his right palm. He looked up for a moment to see if Bilbo was paying attention. 

“Your senses are heightened, as you noticed, but you still have the ability to go out into the sunlight, however, you will be more sensitive to it. The light will be almost blinding and it will burn your skin faster. We can use your halfling state to our advantage. We’ll be moving soon and you can watch over us in the day.”

Bilbo shook his head. “Who says I’m going with you?”

Thorin choked on an abrupt, sad laugh. “You must or you will die for good.”

“But my life—”

Thorin stared hard at Bilbo, like a stern father. “You have no life left here. You have no life left anywhere. As far as anyone you once knew are concerned, you are dead. The dead don’t come back and the dead have no home.”

Bilbo pursed his lips, keeping anything he felt inside. He could tell Thorin wasn’t someone to cross. “Fine,” he replied in a barely audible whisper.

Thorin leapt down from the hammock and crossed to the door in a silent huff. “Pick a hammock or a spot on the ground and get some sleep,” he growled.

“What gives you the authority?” Bilbo asked quietly as Thorin halted just before the door.

“What do you mean?” he said, speaking at the door.

“Why do you have the power to just come out of nowhere and destroy my life?” His voice wavered as he spoke, threatening to crack.

“I needed you t—”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Thorin’s head dropped down as if it grew too heavy to hold up. Bilbo could see him shake his head, slowly and carefully like a pendulum. He rubbed his eyes with the finger and thumb on his right hand, extending the silence. After a few moments, Thorin straightened up and, just as Bilbo thought he was about to give an answer, he threw open the door and slammed it shut on his way out.

Bilbo sighed before turning in the hammock so he could lie down. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get that answer from him or anyone. He was pulled from his old life into a completely new one and it was as exciting as it was terrifying. He closed his eyes and emptied his thoughts, not wanting to dwell on everything he’d lost in the course of a single day. Instead, he concentrated on the rhythmic swing of the hammock and let it lull him to sleep.

 

He slept surprisingly well for being a newly bitten half-vampire curled up on a suspended piece of cloth. When he opened his eyes, they required a long moment to adjust before he could see through the thick darkness. He glanced around him, seeing many of the vampires hanging above him and the rest curled up in the soft dirt below. Just beneath him was a large, red-headed one that required a certain amount of skill to avoid as he climbed down from the low-hanging hammock.

The dirt softened and silenced his impact and he was able to cross to the door without stirring any one of them. There was no light anywhere, nowhere it could break into the darkened building, so Bilbo didn’t know if it was night or day but he assumed it was day since the vampires were so sound asleep. All but one, he found as he slipped through the door and shut it softly behind him.

Thorin sat on a torn up old sofa, the stuffing spilling out like guts from the olive green fabric. He was hunched forward, his elbows digging into his thighs with his head in his hands. He didn’t notice when Bilbo entered the room or when he plopped himself into a salvaged blue chair with a few questionable stains. Bilbo watched Thorin as he sat, unmoving. He wondered both if he should say something and how long he could possibly sit like that.

Minutes passed by as neither of them spoke. Bilbo found entertainment in trying to see if Thorin would move, whether it was a slight twitch or a noticeable blink. He never moved an inch. He was so impressed that he almost wanted to clap. However, he resisted, waiting for the moment when the silence would be broken.

Thorin ran his hands over his face and through his hair, pausing to rub the back of his neck before sitting back and dropping his hands in his lap. Bilbo looked up at him, scanning the lines of stress and tiredness etched into his face. Thorin glanced up to meet his eyes, staring straight through Bilbo.

“I’m a king,” he said, the words sounding like they were being shouted after the long silence.

Bilbo’s brows knitted together as he stared at the vampire across from him. “What?”

“You asked me about authority and power,” Thorin said, his serious expression sitting on his face as if it were carved from stone. “I’m a king. Was a king…”

A frown creased Bilbo’s features. “Was?”

“It was a long, long time ago now.” Thorin stared at the door that led to his sleeping company. “They still think of me that way but it’s been so long since I truly was.”

Thorin’s eyes drooped and Bilbo felt a little sorry for him. “How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

“Oh, a few days now, I think.”

“Go try and get some sleep.” Thorin opened his mouth to protest but Bilbo cut him off. “I might as well start my job of watching over you lot.”

Thorin stared hard at Bilbo as if trying to read his mind, his intentions. Maybe he could. It seemed like he felt satisfied when he nodded and pulled himself to his feet, walking into the bedroom like a puppet held up only by a few weak strings.

“Tonight. Tonight I’ll explain why,” Thorin said before closing the door.

“If you say so,” Bilbo said quietly to no one as he looked around for something to do for the daylight hours.

He rummaged through the room and found a few old books, one of which he’d already read, and stacked them on top of a scratched, wooden coffee table. He also managed to dig up a board game with several missing pieces, a pack of cards, and an unused notebook with a few apparently blood-stained edges. After uncovering a pen, he sat back down in the blue armchair and opened the notebook to the first page.

The pen was centimeters from the paper when he hesitated. He wasn’t sure what to write about. He always wrote about his experiences in other countries. He supposed that’s what he would do. Keep a journal of his experiences, just as something to pass the time.

_23/3/2012_

_I’m a vampire now. Well, I’m half of one for the time being. This is what I get for getting weak-kneed over an attractive and charming man. Blue-eyed devil, he is, and I was done for before I knew what happened. I can’t help but feel at least a little bitter about it. I didn’t get a say in the matter but now I have to accept it and move on. I have to believe it won’t be terrible._

_So far, it’s not all bad. I have enhanced senses and I’m not confined to the darkness just yet, though I am currently confined to this house. I have no idea where I am except for in a pitch black house that smells like dirt and rain and metal with thirteen vampires. The one I fell for seems to be their leader. Thorin is his name._

_He says he was a king a long time ago. I have no idea yet if I should trust him. As of this moment, he hasn’t done anything to earn my trust. He puts up a wall between himself and his emotions for the rest of the vampires here, I can tell. Yet, when I look into his eyes, I see a man who is lost. I see a man who has been lost for a very long time. I pity him._

Bilbo wrote for a while about no single subject, allowing his thoughts to take him where ever they decided to go. He’d filled two pages, front and back, until he finally decided that he had nothing else to say in that moment. He tucked the pen into the spiral wire binding and kept it at his side so he would remember to take it with him later on. No matter what he wrote on the empty pages, he planned to keep it to himself.

The final day hours were spent reading one of the books he’d found, turning page after page of a story about a brave but forlorn knight. He’d decided early on how entirely cheesy the whole thing was yet he couldn’t seem to put it down. However, he stopped reading very quickly when he heard the vampires in the other room start to stir. He threw the paperback at the table and it landed neatly beside the others just as the door opened and a pack of invigorated vampires ambled out.

Bilbo wasn’t really sure what to do but he figured by the lack of sufficient seating, he should stand up and move out of the way. He stood off to the side, notebook in hand, with his back pressed against the wall as everyone found a place to make themselves comfortable. The older looking ones filled up the couch and three chairs while the others found places on the cold, hard wooden floor. Thorin and Bilbo were the last two left standing and most of them had forgotten about Bilbo until Thorin pointed him out.

Thorin beckoned Bilbo forward and Bilbo tucked his notebook under the closest chair before weaving through those on the floor to stand at his side. If his heart could beat, it would’ve been hammering in his chest as he looked at all the expectant faces. He turned his attention to Thorin instead, but his eyes bearing down on him didn’t make Bilbo feel any better.

“Since we didn’t have the opportunity last night, I’d say you could do with introductions,” Thorin said. He pointed at Fili and Kili on the floor. “You already know my nephews.”

Bilbo gave an awkward wave but Fili and Kili simply stared at him.

Thorin continued on, oblivious to the exchange. “On the sofa are Dori, Nori, and Oin. In front of them are Ori and Gloin. In the chairs are Dwalin, Balin, and Bifur and in front of them are Bofur and Bombur.”

“Er, hello everyone,” Bilbo said, feeling like the most pathetic vampire in existence. 

It was silent for a few moments until Kili piped up. “I like him,” he said, turning to his brother.

“Me too. He smells delicious,” Fili said, flashing his fangs.

A low growl to his right caused Bilbo to jump and he turned to see Thorin glowering at his nephew.

Fili snapped his mouth closed and shrugged. “I was kidding.”

“Thorin, if you think he’s the man for the job, we all support your decision. We accept him,” said a man with an Irish accent and short, dark hair. The one Thorin pointed out as Bofur.

A mumble of agreement passed through the group as they looked up at their leader and new recruit. Bilbo’s uneasiness lifted a little but he still didn’t feel like he belonged. He belonged in his flat, writing travel pieces for his less than pleasant editor. That’s what he was used to. That was his home. It wrenched his gut every time he realized that was gone.

“Sit, Mr. Baggins,” Thorin said, gesturing toward the floor. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Bilbo looked at the floor and raised his eyebrows at Thorin. 

Thorin cracked a smile. “As comfortable as possible.”

Bilbo walked through the limited floor space, looking for a place to sit, when a hand grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him down. He landed on his backside next to Kili, who released his grip on his blood-stained blue shirt. He patted Bilbo on the back before he turned his attention back to Thorin.

“Relax, mate,” he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

Bilbo nodded, more to himself than anyone, and followed everyone’s gaze to Thorin. 

“As most of you know,” he began, pacing back and forth with what little space he had “we’ll be leaving this place soon. We’ve traveled a long way already and our destination is in our sight but we still have a way to go. My plan is for us to be ready to move at dusk when the night is young and we have time.”

Bilbo glanced around, seeing everyone listening with rapt attention. 

“So, tonight,” Thorin said, a mischievous grin creeping across his face. “Tonight, we hunt.”

A cheer erupted from the room that almost deafened Bilbo. However, a single gesture from Thorin quieted the room.

“Take only what you need!” He demanded. “Nothing more. We may be leaving here soon but we don’t want to draw attention to ourselves. Fili! Kili!”

“Yes, uncle?” they said in unison.

“After last time, you’re with Dwalin and Balin,” he said, his expression dark and stern.

They two of them grumbled protests under their breaths but they weren’t about to say anything about it to Thorin.

“Bilbo, you’re with me. You need to learn how to hunt. I’m your sire, it’s my responsibility.”

Bilbo gave a short nod and Thorin returned it.

“Go, feed, and return before dawn. I can’t afford to lose anyone.”

Everyone was on their feet in seconds, bursting with excited chatter as they all filed to a door on the left wall, near the door to the bedroom. Bilbo waited a few more moments before standing and was about to move with them when a hand on his right shoulder stopped him dead. He glanced over at Thorin who had moved soundlessly to his side, something Bilbo still hadn’t gotten used to.

“Are you ready to learn the way of the hunt?” he asked, his blue eyes fixed on Bilbo’s.

Bilbo shrugged. “As I’ll ever be.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Welcome to the night, Bilbo Baggins,” Thorin said as he helped Bilbo up out the entrance to the bunker.

The stairs were steep and the square exit at the top wasn’t especially wide. It took more than a few moments to squeeze Bombur through to the world above. Bilbo was the last one out and Thorin grabbed his hand to steady him as he stepped from the final step to the grassy ground.

The fresh air felt cold in his nose after being locked underground with the stuffy warmth. It became slowly easier for him to breathe after trying it out a few times. He didn’t need the air, of course, but a sense of smell would always be useful. Thorin closed the bunker door with a muffled thunk and covered some nearby leaves and loose grass over the metal hatch.

Bilbo looked up at the dark blue night sky, stars interrupting the darkness like freckles on pristine skin. The trees surrounding the small clearing they stood in kept them from view of prying eyes. Bilbo couldn’t tell where they were but he assumed they still remained in England and possibly even nearby his flat.

“What are you looking at?” Thorin asked as he walked up beside him.

“Oh, nothing,” Bilbo said with a small smile. “Just waiting for you, I guess.”

“Right. How’s the shirt?”

Bilbo glanced down at the black t-shirt Thorin had given him to replace his blood-stained one. It hugged him a little tightly but the fabric was comfortable enough.

“It’s good. Thanks.”

They stood there for a moment, the sounds of insect life around them making the silence a little less awkward.

“Shall we, then?” he said, gesturing toward a path in the trees.

“We shall,” Bilbo nodded, allowing Thorin to lead the way. “I have a question, though.”

“Ask away.” Thorin pushed away tree branches that blocked his path.

“How do I… feed without fangs?”

“Good question,” he replied as he finally emerged from the trees with Bilbo in tow. “You don’t. You’re like a student taking notes for a later test.”

“So, I don’t have to drink from anyone?” he said, relief creeping through him. The thought of drinking blood made him feel a little queasy.

“No, you will. You just can’t open the tap, as it were.”

Bilbo nodded, swallowing down the bile and disgust rising up his throat.

Thorin, oblivious to any of Bilbo’s feelings, walked on toward the street and the stream of people trickling by. Bilbo no longer struggled to keep up with Thorin as they moved side-by-side down the street. He looked around at the buildings as he walked, realizing that the area was familiar.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you lived nearby,” Bilbo said, knowing where he lived was a short distance away.

Thorin narrowed his eyes at Bilbo. “Don’t even consider it,” he said in a low growl. “If all goes well we may stop by to pick up a few things for you. A change of clothes, mainly.”

Bilbo frowned in the direction of his flat but stayed by Thorin. There was no point in trying to run from someone so fast to something he could never get back. His whole situation was a lost cause. Bilbo was pulled from his thoughts when Thorin grabbed his hand and dragged him back from the streetlamps and the street side. He didn’t stop until they were both enveloped in darkness but could still watch the people walk past. 

“Rule one,” Thorin said softly in Bilbo’s ear, their hands still clasped, “remain unseen. At least until you have your prey alone. The darkness is your ally now. Use it.”

“How exactly do I use it?”

Thorin dropped his hand. “You hide in it. You move with it. Silent and invisible.”

“Right,” Bilbo said with a nod. He had no idea how he was going to pull that off. 

“You’re the predator here, Bilbo,” Thorin said as if sensing his doubt. “You’re the lion in the Serengeti. Act like it.”

“This is still new to me,” Bilbo explained. “I’ve never been a predator. It’s… strange.”

Thorin didn’t bother to respond, his eyes flitting across each passing person, assessing each one in mere moments. 

“Anyone in mind?” Bilbo asked, trying to follow suit but unable to keep up.

Thorin shook his head. “Too many people. When I spotted you, you were all alone. That’s ideal.”

“I’ll remember the buddy system next time,” Bilbo said, not trying very hard to keep the acid from his tone.

Thorin once more chose to ignore his comment as they both waited for the crowd to thin out. The minutes passed into almost an hour until the people walking down the street were scarce. Bilbo could feel that Thorin was getting a little impatient as the time dragged by. He could feel the air around him change, his muscles tightened, his fists clenched so hard they became even paler than usual. It made Bilbo feel on edge, like an electric current running between them.

“There,” Thorin finally said, his voice barely audible.

“What? Where?” Bilbo said.

He glanced around the street until he saw the lone man, moving at a leisurely pace. The road was momentarily abandoned, no witnesses to speak of in sight. The perfect opportunity.

“Silent and invisible,” Thorin repeated, all of his attention focused on the young man. “Watch and learn.”

One second Thorin was at Bilbo’s side, the next he was simply a blur in the darkness. He reappeared in full form directly behind the man, keeping perfect pace with his footsteps until he reached out and clamped a hand around the man’s mouth and pulled him off the street, into the night’s open arms. There were no screams, there was no struggle, just a perfect execution. He brought the panicked and confused young man back to Bilbo’s side, holding him perfectly still.

“You’re not going to kill him are you?” Bilbo wondered in a hushed tone.

It was still loud enough for the man to hear as he struggled against Thorin’s hold. Thorin shot Bilbo a dark look before slowly turning the man in his arms to face him. He forced him to look him in the eye and they stared at each other until the man stopped struggling. Thorin let him go but kept his eyes firmly on him.

“We are not going to kill him. Killing leaves body trails, even when the bodies are well hidden, and calling attention to ourselves is as good as driving a stake through our own hearts,” Thorin explained in a calm, soothing voice.

“You know, I’m not sure I want to do this,” Bilbo said nervously. “It’s kind of odd drinking blood from someone’s neck.”

He looked up at Thorin and realized he might as well have been talking to a wall. Thorin wrapped his fingers into the man’s brown hair and pulled his head to the side. Bilbo could hear the poor man’s heart hammering wildly in his chest even though on the outside he seemed so calm. The blood rushing through his veins roared in Bilbo’s ears. It made him feel hungry. That scared him. 

Thorin bared his fangs and bit into the man’s neck, holding him so that he wouldn’t collapse from blood loss. Bilbo watched as a thin line of blood trickled down the man’s pale neck, dark, thick, and red. When the man in his arms appeared on the verge of passing out, Thorin pulled away, his lips covered, nearly black, as it dripped down his chin. He dropped the man on the grass and turned to Bilbo. All of the blue in his eyes was gone, replaced with an unsettling blackness.

“Thorin?” Bilbo asked hesitantly.

Thorin glided toward Bilbo and Bilbo tripped over his own feet to back away. His poor attempt at an escape was thwarted as his back hit a tree and Thorin moved in to keep him there, staring down at him with dark, dilated eyes. 

“Th-Thorin?” he said again, more weakly.

Thorin grabbed Bilbo’s face and he was instantly reminded of his dream. Their lips hovered, close to touching, until Thorin closed the distance as if he couldn’t hold back any longer. The taste of the blood on his lips was overwhelming, like a shot of adrenaline. A taste of fresh life. In the rush of emotions, Bilbo kissed him back, entangling his fingers in Thorin’s black hair as he pulled him down to his shorter level.

The electricity between them crackled stronger than ever, drawing them together on animal instinct. When Thorin’s hands traveled down to the hem of Bilbo’s shirt, it was like a wake-up call. Bilbo pulled away, his lips shining with blood, as he put his hands between them and tried to push him away. 

“Thorin, stop,” he said, managing to pry him off and push him back a few inches.

“You don’t want me?” he asked, his voice thick with lust.

Bilbo hesitated, his eyes wandering over all of Thorin. “I… No. This is too much.”

“I could make you,” he growled.

“What?”

“ _Kiss me_ ,” he said, his voice sounding strange in Bilbo’s head.

It echoed off the walls of his mind, repeated itself over and over, grabbing hold of his thoughts. It consumed his mind until he thought that it was the best idea he’d ever heard. He should kiss him. He looked up at Thorin, who was rubbing his eyes, and reached out to him. Thorin glanced up and grabbed Bilbo’s outstretched hand.

“ _Stop_ ,” he said, and Bilbo stopped moving, his head slowly clearing. “Stop. I’m… I’m sorry. That was wrong of me.”

“You controlled me?” Bilbo said incredulously.

Thorin wiped the blood from his chin as looked anywhere but at Bilbo. “It was a moment of weakness. I haven’t been that affected by blood in so long.” He turned to Bilbo and Bilbo could see the black in his eyes receding back to blue. “Please forgive me. It won’t happen again. Next time, you may hunt with someone else if you so choose.”

“How did you control me? Is it because I’m still somewhat human?” Bilbo said, stepping away from the tree so he didn’t feel so cornered.

“As your sire, I have a certain amount of influence over you that no one else has. I should never have used it.”

“No. No you bloody well shouldn’t have,” Bilbo said, his temper rising.

Thorin nodded. “I’ll heal this man, leave him in an open area, then we can go back.”

He bent down and picked up the unconscious man like a sleeping child and carried him off, out of sight. Bilbo collapsed to the ground and ran a hand through his curls. Absentmindedly, he licked his lips, tasting the leftover blood. It was the best thing he’d ever tasted even though he’d never say it out loud. The coating on his lips wasn’t enough but it would have to do. He didn’t want to wait for another victim with Thorin.

In fact, he realized, he had no desire to see Thorin at all. He looked toward the direction he took off in and, when he didn’t see him coming back, he stood up from the cold grass. Bilbo walked off, crossing the familiar streets until he found the one he used to walk down each night. He quickly followed the road until he saw his building and made a break for it. He didn’t know when Thorin would be back or when he’d figure out where Bilbo had gone. What he did know was that he couldn’t outrun him once he worked it out.

After a short distance of running, Bilbo was inside his building, slamming the door behind him as he turned to the stairs. He jogged up them two at a time and searched his trouser pockets for his key. He felt relieved to still find it there and slipped easily inside his flat after reaching the landing to his floor. Warm familiarity washed over him as he locked the door and turned on the light.

The white walls looked stained by the yellow lamp light and the scarcity of his furniture made it feel larger and emptier than it was. The layers of dust seemed to have grown over the two days and nights he’d been gone but he was used to the dust. It was as normal to him as anything else in the small flat. He walked across the floor into his bedroom and found his cell phone on the end table by his bed. Twenty-seven missed calls and twelve messages. They were all from his editor with the exception of one call from an unknown number.

He didn’t bother listening to any of them. He knew what they’d all be about and he found himself not caring. All deadlines ever did was fill him with stress and impending dread. They always loomed over him, threatening him with the loss of his job if he failed to meet it. He felt tired of it. He just felt tired. 

Bilbo held the phone in his hand, weighing it in his grip, before throwing it as hard as he could at an adjacent wall. It shattered on impact, exploding and falling in pieces to the floor. He sat down on his bed and dropped his head into his hands. He felt both regret and as if a burden had lifted from his shoulders. 

“Is it everything you want back, this flat?” Thorin’s voice echoed down the hall.

Bilbo didn’t want to look at him but he could see his silhouette at the front door out of the corner of his eye. He glanced away and when he glanced back, Thorin stood in the bedroom doorway. He leaned against the frame, somber expression on his face. He didn’t want to gloat or drag him away and Bilbo appreciated that.

“I’m not trying to keep you from your life, Bilbo. If this is what you want, that’s fine. Just stay with us through the transition, learn what you need to learn, and then come back. No one will stop you.”

“But what will my life be?” Bilbo said in a whisper.

“You’d be surprised how many vampires have blended into mortal life,” Thorin explained, looking down at his shoes. “You can work a night shift, black out the windows. As long as you hunt quietly, you could live here for twenty or thirty years before people start to notice how you don’t age.”

“Sounds like a great time,” he mumbled into his hands.

“Or, should you decide by the end of your training, you could stay with us. We could easily house one more, especially once we’ve done what we set out to do.”

Bilbo lifted his head and finally looked at Thorin. “Which is what? You never said.”

Thorin met Bilbo’s eyes and walked into the room, pulling out the chair at Bilbo’s desk so he could sit down. “The condensed version is that long ago, when I was still a king and not long after we chose to change into what we are now, my kin and I were driven from our lands. Our castle, our riches, our good names, all taken from us in the course of a single evening.”

Bilbo sat forward on the bed, listening intently as he spoke. Thorin crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back, thinking of the right words to say next.

“We were driven out by the terrible and destructive Smaug and the fire that burst forth from his lungs.”

“A dragon!?” Bilbo asked, sitting up a little straighter.

“Yes and no. Smaug has the body of a man, though a slowly aging one, but he can breathe fire. At the peak of his powers, he can cover his flesh in a scaly armor that’s impossible to penetrate. Now, vampires are hard creatures to kill but one of the most deadly ways is by fire. You can see why he got the best of us so easily.

“Vampires became a joke, from feared predators to blood-sucking sewer rats. He drove us from our kingdom, our castle, and housed himself in it. Dragonborns are greedy creatures, their whole lives revolve around gaining gold and power, so Smaug took ours and that is where it’s said he remains.”

“Is it? Where he remains?” Bilbo wondered.

“No one has seen or heard from him in a long while and word of his inactivity is spreading. He could still be alive, tucked away with our riches, or he could be dead and our lands are up for the taking. This is why we’re traveling. We need to take back what’s ours before anyone else gets there first,” Thorin said, his expression hard and cold.

“So you could be heading back home or to your deaths,” Bilbo said bluntly.

Thorin nodded. “Yes. But what we could have back is worth the risk. At least it is for those of us who chose to undertake this journey.”

“Right. And why did you need me?” Bilbo asked, staring down Thorin.

“I saw potential in you. Potential and heart.”

“We met twice,” he said. “How could you say that from two meetings?”

“We met twice, yes, but as long as we’ve been here, I’ve been looking out for a fourteenth member and I found you,” Thorin said, leaning forward. “And I watched you just to make sure. You seemed so unhappy. So… lost. I know you still feel that upon returning here. This place has never been home to you. It’s a place to rest between your travels.”

Bilbo stared down at his hands and didn’t say a word.

“Come back with me, Bilbo. I promise no more lapses of control. I promise, if you help us, we’ll find you a home.”

Bilbo glanced up, searching Thorin’s face for answers but he wasn’t sure he even knew the questions. He looked for sincerity, he looked for his future, but all he saw was his own face reflected in his blue irises. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Okay,” Bilbo said.


	4. Chapter 4

Bilbo threw clothes over his shoulder at an open, black messenger bag on his bed. Most of them missed, landing around the bag or completely overshooting the bed, but a couple of them landed inside, much to Thorin’s amusement. Thorin sat and watched as Bilbo stomped around the room, tossing clothes and the bare necessities with poor aim. Bilbo refused to speak to Thorin but Thorin didn’t push it. That respect and understanding only served to fuel Bilbo’s frustration, but he kept it roiling on the inside.

There were no plans in his mind to help Thorin or his people take back their home after they’d taken his. He was going to suffer through the transition, learn how to survive, and go back to live out his thirty or so years before he’d be driven out by torches and pitchforks. He owed Thorin nothing and Thorin owed him everything. But he kept that thought away from his tongue.

After fifteen minutes of back and forth, Bilbo closed the bag and slung it over his shoulder. He marched toward the door without a word, shutting off the lights as he walked by them. He didn’t have to look back to know Thorin was right on his heels.

They reacquainted themselves with the night, letting it envelop them. Bilbo wasn’t anticipating the walk back. Being awake all day and night was starting to affect his human half and dull his senses. 

“When are you going to teach me that running thing,” he asked, fighting back a yawn.

“What running thing?” Thorin replied, falling in step beside him.

“Where you move really fast.”

“Flitting.”

“Huh?”

“It’s called flitting,” Thorin said seriously. “It’s more like sprinting than running as it works best in short bursts. I would teach you now, but I can feel your lack of energy.”

Bilbo shrugged. “I could still try.”

Thorin shook his head. “Not tonight. It takes a lot out of most, it would hurt you. Here.” He stopped in his tracks and stooped down a little. “Get on my back.”

“Excuse me?” Bilbo asked, staring strangely at him.

“You’re tired,” he said, straightening up. “It’s coming off you in waves strong enough to make me feel it. I can easily carry you and we’ll be back there in a minute or less.”

“I would honestly rather walk,” Bilbo said, holding up his hands.

Thorin practically scowled at him. “Your feelings effect my feelings now and vice versa. I can’t deal with your exhaustion leaking through the bond. Either get on my back or I’ll carry you over my shoulder.”

Bilbo held his ground, glaring right back at him, but he knew he wouldn’t win. It was better to concede than face embarrassment in front of the other vampires. He slumped his shoulders in defeat and climbed onto Thorin’s back, wrapping his arms around his neck. Thorin held onto Bilbo’s legs with a tight grip and started out in a run. 

After a few long strides the pace picked up considerably, causing the world around them to blur as if it were moving faster while they stood still. If it weren’t for the air he could feel pressing down on his face or the sickening movement caused by being carried, that’s what he would’ve assumed. He held on for his life and would’ve been choking Thorin to death if he’d needed the air.

In less than a minute, just as promised, Thorin slowed to a stop as they stepped into the small clearing. He let go of Bilbo’s legs and Bilbo collapsed onto the grass, dry heaving so hard his chest hurt. Thorin glanced down at him with disinterest.

“That tends to happen your first few trips. You get used to it.”

“I appreciate the concern,” Bilbo replied as the gagging died down.

He wobbled to his feet, waiting a moment to regain his balance before attempting a step forward. The leaves and grass on top of the metal door were gone, meaning some, if not all, of the company had returned. Thorin yanked the thick hatch open with ease and dropped down through, leaving Bilbo to feebly pull the hatch closed behind him. They jogged down the steps to the sound of jumbled voices talking at once. However, as soon as Thorin opened the door, the room became dead silent.

All twelve of them looked up as Thorin and Bilbo walked in, their faces expectant and, for some, just the slightest bit fearful. Thorin motioned for Bilbo to find a seat and he carved out a spot between Kili and Bofur, joining everyone as they looked up to Thorin.

“How did it go for everyone? Everything go well? No bodies?” he asked as he crossed his arms.

“There was almost one,” Dwalin said, scratching his tattooed scalp. “Fili and I had to pull Kili off some poor bloke. Almost drained him, but he’ll live.”

Thorin glared at Kili like fire to brittle paper. Kili squirmed in his place beside Bilbo. “He’s not dead, though,” Kili mumbled as he picked at some dried blood in the corner of his mouth.

“That’s not the point, Kili. You almost killed him. What am I going to do with you!?” Thorin said, throwing up his arms. “Millennia old and you still act like a child.”

“Sorry, uncle.”

“I don’t want to hear of an incident like this again, do you hear me?”

Kili nodded, looking at his brother before concentrating hard at scraping dirt out of the crevices on the bottom of his boots.

Thorin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Any other problems?”

“None at all,” Gloin reported and the rest of the company nodded in reassurance.

“Good, thank you,” he said, visibly relieved. “Have the rest of the night to yourselves and get a good day’s sleep for the night of travel ahead.”

Thorin marched through to the other end of the room, slipping through the door to the room that Bilbo first woke up in. As soon as the door closed, conversation broke out again, swapping stories about the night’s events as well as the past. Bilbo could hardly keep up with all the words being tossed around and all he was doing was sitting and listening.

“…and then,” Balin said with a laugh, “Dwalin charges down the whole army, twin axes in hand, screaming a battle cry like a madman and the whole army turns tail and runs!”

The small crowd gathered around him burst into laughter as Dwalin lightly punched his brother in the shoulder. In another group, Fili told his story of that night with his brother interrupting every so often.

“So, we’re trying to pry him off the poor human but he’s stuck like a giant leech and—”

“—I was not—”

“—you were. If it takes more effort than Dwalin to remove you—”

“—shut up. I was hungry.”

Stifled laughter escaped from the listeners lips. Bilbo couldn’t even hold back a laugh at their constant bickering. Fili and Kili turned their heads at the sound, staring at Bilbo. He immediately became silent, staring down at his hands in his lap.

“What about you, Mr. Baggins?” Kili asked, raising an eyebrow. “Any tales to tell?”

“Oh! No, not me, I’m afraid,” Bilbo said, not being able to look any of them in the eye. “Certainly nothing as interesting as battling whole armies.”

“Thorin’s told us you’re a traveler, you must have some stories in you,” Balin said, joining in as everyone’s attention turned to Bilbo.

“Well, I do have some but—”

“So tell us one!” Kili said.

All twelve vampires surrounded Bilbo and he felt frozen on the spot. “Erm…” His tongue felt thick and dry as he wracked his brain for something interesting to talk about. He was about to give up and try to escape somehow when his first trip to America popped into his head. “Well, there actually was this one time when I went to New York City on a job…”

He told his story about getting so completely lost, he ended up in a rural part of New York and how he ended up being escorted back to his hotel by and entire biker gang. Everyone seemed enthralled as he spoke, which encouraged him to keep talking even though he was sure they’d heard better stories. He did his best to tell it as well as he possibly could.

“As I got off the back of the leader’s motorbike, he offers me this patch of his gang’s symbol. I took it and as they drove away, I realized they probably thought I’d killed that man and they made me an honorary member.”

Laughter roared up for the final time as he ended his tale and there was some scattered applause.

“You’ll have to tell us another tale some other night,” Fili said. “That was brilliant.”

“You really think so?”

“Definitely,” Ori chimed in, holding out a hand to help Bilbo to his feet.

Everyone was standing up and shuffling toward the bedroom. Their inner clocks must’ve been able to sense the daylight, Bilbo figured. He accepted Ori’s offer and was easily pulled up onto his feet. Feeling the weight of not sleeping for a whole day dragged him down and just walking into the room with everyone else seemed like wading through waist deep mud.

He stumbled a little, a tired misstep, but someone caught his arm and straightened him out. Bilbo looked up at Thorin who had a strong but gentle grip on him.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice leaking concern but his face as unreadable as ever.

“Fine. Just exhausted,” Bilbo said, feeling unsure how to react. 

Thorin dropped his hold, taking a step back. “Well, get some sleep. I can’t be caring for you all the way to the safe house tonight.”

Thorin brushed past Bilbo into the room and climbed up the hammocks to the topmost one. Bilbo, being the last one in, found a spot on the floor in a corner of the room. He set his bag down and used it as a pillow, trying to make himself as comfortable as possible. He missed his bed. He may not have completely missed his life, but he definitely missed his bed.

He curled up in the fetal position for warmth, though he didn’t feel the cold much, and fell asleep within minutes, more from sleep deprivation than anything. As he slept, there was only blackness for most of the night, then there were flashes of images, most of which he didn’t recognize. A field of grass, a raging fire, the sound of metal clashing against metal. A cry of anguish. Dead bodies. Bilbo somehow knew he was tossing and turning but he couldn’t wake up.

The images, the short clips, became more familiar as he started to see his own face in some of them. He saw himself being bitten and carried, unconscious or dead, back to the bunker in the woods. He didn’t like it. Suddenly, the images stopped, everything grew dark again just as someone started to shake him awake.

His eyes shot open and Kili’s face swam into view.

“You okay? Seemed like you were having a nightmare,” he said, helping Bilbo to his feet.

“Um.” He squinted his eyes, trying to recall everything he’d dreamt. “I think I was.”

“You’re all right now, anyway. It’s time to get up. Grab your bag.”

“Yeah. Right,” Bilbo nodded.

Kili clapped him on the shoulder and moved on to take care of his own business. Bilbo grabbed his bag and pulled the strap over his head so that it rested comfortably. The entire company was busy moving around the bunker, packing up what they needed and could easily carry. Bilbo felt out of place, standing still while everything moved around him.

He inched his way into the living area, looking at all of the people walking back and forth, when he remembered the notebook he stashed under the blue armchair. He moved himself so that he stood behind it and knelt down, reaching underneath and pulling out the spiral-bound notebook. He shoved it into the bag before anyone could see it and searched the room for Thorin.

He waited and spotted him walking out of the bedroom with a black backpack in his hand.

“Thorin!” Bilbo called out, attracting his attention.

“What is it, Bilbo?” he asked, sounding slightly annoyed. “I’m a bit busy.”

“I’m just done with my own packing, is there anything I can do to help?” Bilbo said, wondering if he should’ve interrupted at all.

Thorin huffed, looking around. He thought for a moment before thrusting the backpack into Bilbo’s hands. “Remember the room you woke up in?”

Bilbo nodded.

“There’s a mini-fridge in there with some blood bags inside. Put them in this bag and bring it back to me. I have something else to take care of.”

Thorin walked off and went through the door to the steps out of the bunker. Bilbo shrugged and walked across the room to the only door on that side. He slipped inside and looked along the floor for a mini-fridge. The metal table sit stood in a far corner of the room. The floorboards were old and dirty and creaked with each step. There wasn’t much else in the room, a lot of trash and taped up boxes that no one would probably ever open. 

He found the small, dirty, white fridge wedged between two boxes to his right. After forcing the door open, he shoveled the blood bags into the backpack. He didn’t really want to look at them. Bilbo just knew they’d bring up the hunger he’d been ignoring and he’d feel sick about it. He’d wonder where the blood had come from, what people, which would only make it worse. 

All he did was pack the blood away, zip up the pack, and forget about it. He told himself he didn’t want anything to do with it even though deep down he felt the gnawing in his gut that wanted it more than anything.

Bilbo walked back out into the living area and looked to see if Thorin had come back yet. Dori and Nori walked through, each shoving strewn about clothes in their packs, with Ori trailing behind them. Oin and Gloin were bickering with each other over something as they stood in the bedroom doorway. However, he didn’t see Thorin anywhere.

He weaved through the stream of people and followed Thorin up the steps to the outside. The hatch was still open and he could hear Thorin’s deep voice pouring through as he neared the top.

“You better be there on time,” he said, the edges of his voice sounding frayed. He paused before speaking again. “Yeah, well, you always say that. We don’t have hours to waste.” He sighed heavily and Bilbo stopped just as the back of Thorin’s head and shoulders came into view. “Yes. Thank you. See you later tonight.”

Thorin tapped the screen of his phone and pocketed it. He started turning toward the open hatch when Bilbo decided to make a show of walking up the rest of the steps.

Thorin raised an eyebrow at him. “There’s no need for that, I knew you were there.”

Bilbo stepped out onto the grass and felt a little deflated. “Oh…”

The night was very young as the last red remnants of the sun glowed ominously on the horizon. There were no stars in the sky yet and Bilbo could hear the traffic on the nearby street of people driving to and from home. Bilbo held out the pack to Thorin.

“Here. I did what you asked.”

Thorin accepted it with a slight bow of his head before slipping the pack on his back. “It’s appreciated. You may stay out here if you’d like, I’m going back in just to round everyone up. It’ll only be a minute or two.”

“Uh, who were you talking to, if you don’t mind my asking?” Bilbo said as Thorin stole a step forward.

“A contact of mine. He has some information for us,” he said as he walked around Bilbo and began his decent through the hatch. “I’ll be back in two.”

Bilbo frowned as Thorin disappeared from sight. He was left in the clearing to wait until the company of vampires appeared from the hatch one-by-one, each with some kind of a bag on their backs. Thorin was the last one out, leather jacket on with the pack over his shoulders. He shut the metal hatch behind him and covered it over to the best of his ability.

He turned to his small army and they stared back at him for a long moment. Thorin seemed to look at each one in turn, eyes lingering as he reached Bilbo at the very end. He looked tired to Bilbo. Not on the surface, he couldn’t show his weakness to his people, but if someone were to strip away a layer or two, he would look exhausted. If he had to carry twelve people back to their home and possible deaths, Bilbo imagined he’d feel tired too.

Thorin shook his head slightly, glancing down at his feet for a moment. When he looked back up, his expression was determined, a fire burning in his eyes. He walked forward, pushing through the crowd in front of him, expecting them to follow him. They did without question. 

They walked through the forest a ways, following the road from a distance. The scenery became more remote as they traveled until there were almost no people. Bilbo continued to wonder why they were just walking the whole way when Thorin started to slow down. They moved out of the trees to the side of the road where a large, black van was parked. 

“Is this ours?” Bilbo asked, eyeing it suspiciously.

“It is for now,” Thorin said as he walked up to the double doors on the back. 

He grabbed a set of keys from his jacket pocket and unlocked the doors before throwing them open. The inside of it was white, chipped in places to show a rust color just beneath. Three quarters of it was open space save for the divider and the two front seats on the other side of it. Thorin stepped aside and held out his arms like he were presenting a masterpiece.

“You want us all to get in there?” Bilbo said, incredulously.

“It’s that or you can follow the exhaust trail as you walk down the road,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

With a collective grumble, they piled into the back of the van. Thorin stopped the last person in line, Fili, and motioned for him to go around the side.

“You can ride out front. We’ll take shifts if we need to but I’m hoping to get there in one go.” He looked at the twelve vampires crammed into the back as he grabbed the doors. “Have fun.”

He slammed the doors closed and the back became pitch black save for the little moonlight leaking in from the mesh divider. Bilbo was starting to enjoy how quickly his eyesight adjusted but he didn’t like being practically in Bofur’s lap. He tried to pretend he was elsewhere as he heard the front doors open and shut and the engine roar to life.

Everyone in the back was jostled around as the van got off to a shaky start. They knocked into each other like a bowling ball to pins, all finding it hard to keep sitting up straight. At one point, after a particularly nasty pothole, Bilbo knocked heads with Dwalin and almost fell unconscious. Dwalin, however, remained completely unscathed.

They traveled for what felt like ages, bouncing around in the back in silence other than the sounds of the van itself. It seemed like the old thing was holding together on willpower alone as it rattled down the roads. With each sharp turn, Bilbo felt sure they’d lose a wheel but a determination to live vibrated through its shaky frame.

The night dragged on; Bilbo felt numb from the waist down, and after attempting to shift positions, he was half laying across Bofur’s lap, though he didn’t seem to mind enough to push him off. He felt like he could’ve dropped off to sleep despite the rattles and roars and he almost did until he noticed the red band of light on the horizon through the divider.

“THORIN!” he called over the sound of the van.

“I SEE IT, BILBO. I’M BLOODY WELL GOING AS FAST AS I CAN,” he snapped, pressing down harder on the gas.

The poor van rattled even more, pushing itself faster and faster at Thorin’s command. Everyone in the back was thrown against the doors and they groaned in pain at the weight pressed on them. The light on the horizon grew brighter, bleeding from red to orange, as a small house pulled into view. A short-lived sound of relief escaped Thorin’s lips but he continued to drive the van faster.

Just as the sun itself started to peak over the edge of the world, the black van skidded into the grassless yard, kicking up a massive dirt cloud. Thorin pushed Fili out of the van first, giving him his backpack to take with him, and he ran faster than humanly possible into the single story, white house with blacked out windows. With a deep breath, Thorin removed his leather jacket and draped it over his head for meager shade before daring to leave the van.

Using his quick hands and will to live, he rushed around to the back and swiftly unlocked the door, letting the company free. They scrambled from the close confines, running into the old building before the sunlight could get its grip on them. Thorin stayed out, making sure everyone got inside. Bilbo was the last one out as he was yet unaffected by the sun. He could see that Thorin was starting to smoke under the black leather.

Bilbo jumped from the back of the van and grabbed Thorin’s hand, pulling him along to the front door as Thorin kept a hold on his jacket. The door opened for them and they ran straight inside, almost forgetting to stop running as they rushed from the door to the opposite wall. Once they were all safe, there was an eerie moment of silence as they realized how close they brushed with death. The silence didn’t last long when Thorin realized he hadn’t stopped smoking.

“SHIT! I’m on fire!” He sounded more annoyed than panicked as he removed the jacket from over his head and used it to put out the flame spreading from his back.

Once it was out, he threw the jacket on the ground and hobbled over to a small round table with four, uncomfortable looking wooden chairs. He pulled out the nearest one and collapsed in it, leaning back far enough that it looked like the chair might tip, though it never did.

“Are you all right?” Bilbo asked, looking at the charred hole in his shirt through the slats in the back of the chair. “That doesn’t look so good.”

Thorin waved off his concern without bothering to look at him. “I’ll heal in a minute,” he said, shifting slightly in the seat. The simple movement caused him wince. “Or in an hour. Either way, I’m fine.”

Bilbo glanced at everyone else’s faces, seeing no traces of concern for their leader, so he assumed what he said was true. With nothing for him to do, he followed Thorin’s example and sat down at one of the chairs around the table. Soon, everyone followed suit, finding places to sit, relax, and wait for Thorin’s mysterious contact.

On the inside, the house was even smaller than it looked. The kitchen they sat in and the living room were one open space, distinguished from each other by floorboards on one side and old, faded red carpet on the other. Every room Bilbo could see in was devoid of all things electronic and places to sit were scarce. The four kitchen chairs, a beat-up leather sofa, and a grey chair adorned with cigarette burns were all the house had to offer. Everyone else made do with the floors.

“When is this guy supposed to be here?” Bilbo asked, his head resting on his arms on the tabletop. 

“He was supposed to be here at sunrise,” Thorin said irritably as he tried to look and see how his back was healing. “But it’s a mistake to ever trust him with being on time. Every bloody time, he waltzes in and says: I am never late, nor ever early, I arrive—”

“—precisely when I mean to,” an older voice finished as the front door opened with a creak.


	5. Chapter 5

Everyone looked up as the old man walked through the threshold, careful to quickly close the door behind him and keep out the sun. He was tall with short, grey hair and a tailored grey suit adorned with a darker grey pocket square. In his right hand, he held the ornate, silver top of a polished wooden cane, the lines of metal stretching across the wood like shining tree roots. A feeling of persistent familiarity tugged at Bilbo's mind at the sight of him.

"Finally," Thorin said, standing up to greet him.

The man looked around at everyone, his gaze lingering on Bilbo before turning to Thorin in front of him. "I see everyone made it here without catching fire."

"Almost everyone," Thorin said, tugging at the scorched fabric on his side. "No one died but I lost a perfectly good shirt."

"What an unfortunate loss for us all," he said, promptly turning his attention elsewhere. "Mr. Baggins, I'm glad to see you've adjusted well."

Bilbo's brow furrowed as he stared at him. "Do I know you?"

"This is Gandalf," Thorin answered, looking from one to the other. "He's a wizard."

A short, hysterical laugh bubbled up from Bilbo's throat. "Wizard. Right. Yeah. Aren't you…" He hesitated, concentrating hard on remembering Gandalf. "Aren't you a client? Through the company I work for."

"I may have commissioned a piece or two," he replied with a shrug.

"But how did you know I'd be here? How did you know I'd be tied up in all of this? We've never physically met," Bilbo said, his voice rising in pitch along with his panic and suspicion.

"No, we've never met but I know of you just as you know of me," Gandalf said, crossing the floor to sit in the chair Thorin had vacated. "I sent Thorin Oakenshield and his company your way because they needed a fourteenth member and I suspected they might find you."

"So, I have you to blame for this, then?" Bilbo said, resisting the urge to slam his fist against the table.

Gandalf's face adopted a confused expression that quickly changed to realization and settled into lines of subtle anger. "I'm guessing you didn't explain the situation before you changed him, Mr. Oakenshield," he said, turning in his chair to face him.

Thorin shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "It was in the heat of the moment. He knows now."

Gandalf shook his head and turned back toward Bilbo. "These men could win you a war but they act on impulse and are about as smart as a brick."

Bilbo smiled for what felt like the first time in a long time. He didn't quite trust Gandalf but he didn't dislike him, and that was something.

"We can hear you, you know," Kili said irritably from his chair at the table.

Gandalf raised an eyebrow poignantly at Kili. Kili looked seconds away from lunging across the table at him when Thorin interrupted.

"Enough of this!" he boomed, commanding everyone's attention. "We have business to attend to so we can get some rest in before heading out again. You said you had information for us."

"I am a wealth of information, but yes, there is a fraction of it for you," Gandalf replied, gesturing for Thorin to join the table.

Thorin walked over and ushered Kili out of his chair, sitting between Fili and Bilbo while Kili stood close by. The other vampires stood and encircled the table, gathering close so they could see and hear what was going on as well. Gandalf reached inside the left side of his suit at his chest and pulled out a folded piece of paper that looked creased and yellowed with age.

He unfolded it carefully, the crinkling page sounding like thunder in the silence of anticipation. Everyone leaned over the round table so they could see as Gandalf spread the out the old, handmade map on it. Just looking at it, they could tell the map was truly ancient, older than the vampires as it was made before any of them were born.

The shapes of land weren't the same as the Earth had shifted over the thousands of years. The trails wouldn't be the same, nor the landmarks, but their home, Erebor, would still be in the same place. Everyone but Gandalf stared at the map as if it had started to dance for them. The old language on it was completely unreadable to Bilbo but he assumed it was the native language of the vampires as it was a map to their home.

Thorin looked up at Gandalf, searching his face, while the rest of the company looked at Thorin the same way. "I… can't make heads or tails of this," he admitted. "The writing isn't complete, not all the information is here."

"No, you're right," Gandalf said. "This is why I plan to accompany you to a new destination, one that will help all of us decipher its meaning."

Thorin narrowed his eyes at Gandalf.

"Don't give me that look. They're the only ones who still use the old ways. They can read it and you will not make it to Erebor otherwise."

Thorin shook his head and there were a few scattered groans. Bilbo looked around at everyone, feeling completely lost.

"What? Who are we going to see?" he asked, hoping to understand at least one thing about his situation.

Thorin turned to Bilbo, wearing an expression like he'd just experienced the worst taste imaginable. "Wolves," he said, his tone dripping acid.

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. "Wolves?"

"Werewolves," Gandalf elaborated. "Whereas vampires thrive with humans and change to keep up with time, werewolves prefer to seclude themselves and remain faithful to tradition."

Bilbo nodded. "Of course. Werewolves."

Thorin pushed away from the table and stood, walking from it to collect himself. He stood with his back to the table for a few moments before turning back around.

"I suppose we have our destination. It's time to get some rest," he said, dismissing them all.

They slowly dispersed throughout the house, finding places to rest as comfortably as possible. After a few minutes, only Thorin, Bilbo, and Gandalf remained. Thorin was still trying to hold back his anger but Bilbo could feel it. Even diluted through the bond, it burned unlike any passion Bilbo had ever felt. He almost forgot that he didn't even know the wolves well enough to hate them.

"What did they do to you?" Bilbo asked, causing Thorin to look up so fast it might've cause whiplash.

He glared at him, his eyes like red hot needles. "You know, Gandalf, if I'd known we'd have a wizard with us, I wouldn't have even bothered with a useless halfling."

Bilbo felt shocked, staring at Thorin as he looked away. He opened his mouth to speak but Thorin cut him off with a wave of his hand before marching down a short hall to find a place to sleep. Bilbo stared at Gandalf but he offered no insights.

"Don't take it personally, Mr. Baggins. It's a touchy subject," Gandalf said as he stood from his chair. "He'll tell the story when he's ready."

Bilbo nodded as Gandalf grabbed the cigarette burned chair for himself to lay down in. He stayed at the table for a few minutes, thinking about everything that just happened. Thoughts rushed through his head at breakneck speed, making him feel unsure if he'd ever fall asleep. He stood and walked into the living area to make a place to rest on the carpet.

Rather than attempt to steal any elusive rest, he leaned his back against the wall and pulled a pen and the notebook from his bag. In order to get any peace, he'd have to straighten out his thoughts by writing them out. He could only hope that Kili and Fili on the sofa and Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur on the floor were all asleep. He knew that Gandalf wouldn't ask questions because he felt like the old wizard would already know what he was doing.

He wrote for what felt hours about everything on his mind, especially about his anger toward Thorin. I can't tell if I should feel sorry for him about his past or just pissed because of how much of an ass he is about it. At the end of it, he felt much better, though still somewhat angry and confused. Ever since he woke up in that bunker, those two feelings were like loyal friends, unfortunately never leaving his side.

He tucked away his notebook and pen in his bag and set it down as a pillow so he could get comfortable. Mere minutes after lying down, exhaustion stole him away to the blackness of sleep. It didn't stay dark in his head for long as he got flashes of images, just like the previous night, but they lasted longer, like short movie clips.

Flashes of fire that looked so vivid, Bilbo could almost feel the flames licking at his flesh. He saw people running, screaming, dying. He saw a pack of wolves, one standing out from the rest with white-blonde fur. The dying screamed for help. The blonde wolf cocked its head to the side, hearing their cries. It turned away, taking the whole pack with it, leaving the people to burn.

Bilbo started to believe he could smell smoke when the images melted away just before he opened his eyes. He wasn't the first one awake. A few of the vampires were already up, walking around and ready to go. Nearby, Bifur was waking up Bofur and Bombur. He went to wake up Bilbo, but only gave a slight nod and a smile when he saw that he was already awake. Bilbo returned the gestures.

Gandalf was also awake, his suit unwrinkled even though he slept in it. He leaned on his cane and watched as everyone slowly came to life and started to function again. Bilbo sat up and immediately felt his stomach tighten. It was sudden and harsh and painful. He hunched forward, arms wrapped around his abdomen, and stayed like that as he rode out the agony. Hunger, pure and simple.

No one around him seemed to notice his pain and he preferred it that way. Thorin already considered him useless, he didn't need to be seen as weak. He ignored the hunger as best as he could and stood up, bringing the bag up with him. He swung the strap over his head as he, like Gandalf, watched everyone shuffle around half-conscious.

He leaned up against nearest wall, waiting out the time until everyone was ready to leave. The rest of the vampires soon shuffled out from down the hall, Thorin trailing behind as the last one out. Thorin looked over at him as soon as he stepped into view, curiously scanning him for a moment before walking into the kitchen. He picked up his leather jacket where he left it on the floor and slipped it on as he spoke quietly with Balin.

Bilbo crossed his arms, looking anywhere but at him. His anger about the morning before was still simmering in his mind. Luckily for him, Gandalf approached him for a much needed distraction. He stood with his back to the wall beside him and struck up a conversation.

"How are you feeling this morning?" he asked, glancing down at him.

Bilbo shrugged. "All right. Still mad but what can I do. I'm stuck."

"If it's any consolation, you don't have to cram yourself into that van if you so choose."

Bilbo looked up. "What do you mean?"

"I have my own car," he replied, turning so that he was leaning against the wall with his shoulder. "I'm not going to sit in the back of an old delivery van with eleven vampires. It's a limited time offer. I don't know how long I'll stay with you all but I can give you at least one ride of peace."

"Thank you, Gandalf," Bilbo said, feeling relieved he could avoid Thorin for the night. "I appreciate it."

"I just hope the two of you get your problems sorted. Neither of you will make it if you don't work together," he said, raising his eyebrows at Bilbo.

Gandalf walked away before Bilbo could have a chance to respond. He didn't see how anything rested on them getting along. Still, he wasn't about to question the guy giving him a night away from the cramped van. Everyone around him was just standing around, talking with their packed bags on their backs. Thorin moved through them to the front door and cleared his throat, immediately grabbing everyone's attention.

"If we're all ready, I say it's time we moved out. Keep an eye out for places to rest. It'll be a few days travel to get to where we're going."

He opened the door for them to the cool night air and they filed outside, enjoying it before they had to spend the next ten or so hours inside the stuffy, black van. Bilbo snuck outside amidst the crowd and hung back against the white wall of the house as most everyone else reluctantly piled in through the open double doors. Gandalf's small, silver, four-door car was parked just next to the van, seeming like a gleaming treasure compared to the old pile of junk.

Thorin, the last one out, shut the front door behind him and immediately turned his attention to Bilbo. Bilbo groaned, trying to melt into the wall, but Thorin's attention was homed in on him. Rather than stopping to talk, Thorin grabbed Bilbo's hand and started to drag him around to the side of the house.

"I need to speak with you," he said gruffly.

"Whoa, hey," Bilbo said, both surprised and angry. He wrenched his hand from Thorin's grip and stumbled back a few steps. "I don't really want to speak with you."

Thorin turned on his heel with a growl of frustration. "Two minutes, that's all I ask."

Bilbo looked back to see the last few stragglers getting ready to go before half-heartedly glaring at Thorin. "Fine. Two minutes."

He followed Thorin around to the side of the house until they were out of sight. Then Thorin stopped abruptly, turning to face Bilbo. His expression seemed almost pained, contorted in concentration.

"I just…" he started before pausing to think again. "I wanted to say…"

"You're wasting your two minutes here," Bilbo said, crossing his arms.

"I want to apologize," he blurted, trying to remain stoic and unreadable. "For last night. It was out of line."

"Yeah, it was," Bilbo said. "One minute."

Thorin's anger flared but he quickly pushed it down. "Fine. Don't forgive me. I don't care. Just take this."

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out one of the blood bags he'd had in his pack. He held it out to Bilbo who stole an instinctive step back.

"No thanks. I'm all set," he said, holding up his hands like a barrier.

Thorin grabbed one of Bilbo's hands with his free one and held it out, palm up. He placed the blood bag in it, making sure Bilbo had a hold on it.

"I'm not asking," he said, his tone serious. "If you don't drink this, you'll die. Put it off for a day or two, whatever you want. Just come to terms with it quickly. The last thing I need is for anyone to die on me."

Bilbo stared into Thorin's eyes, seeing a hint of desperation. He kept his hold on the bag as Thorin let go and backed away.

"That's all I wanted. I'm sure Gandalf is waiting for you," he said, turning his back on Bilbo and marching toward the van.

He watched him go, looking between Thorin and the bag in his hand. He almost felt nauseous watching the red liquid swim around in the plastic, but his stomach tightened again, even worse than before. He had to put a hand against the wall of the house to keep from dropping to his knees. After a minute, the pain wore off and he could stand up straight again. He quickly stuffed the blood bag into his messenger bag. Out of sight, out of mind. That's what he hoped.

When he walked back around to the front of the house, Thorin was just getting settled in the driver's seat of the van and Gandalf was waiting at the driver's door of his car. He looked impatient, tapping his fingers against the silver on his cane. He didn't look any less displeased when he saw Bilbo walking toward him.

"Sorry about that. Thorin wanted a word," Bilbo said, walking around to the passenger's side door.

"Anything resolved?" Gandalf asked, opening his door and sliding into the seat.

"Not really. But he apologized. It's a start."

Gandalf made a noise that almost sounded like he was impressed.

"What?" Bilbo said, dropping into his seat and buckling up.

"I didn't expect him to even do that."

Bilbo frowned at him as Gandalf started the car. Bilbo barely had time to shut his door before Gandalf tore out of the dirt yard and onto the street. He watched the rearview mirror as Thorin pulled out into the road just behind them, Balin in the seat next to him. Bilbo was happy to be in a comfortable leather seat with enough room to stretch his legs. He swore to enjoy it while he had the chance.

He relaxed back into the seat as Gandalf drove down the winding, rural roads. The further they drove, the fewer cars they saw driving past. The houses grew scarce and the trees turned into a thick forest which felt both scenic and unnerving.

"It's unfortunate that circumstances made this whole experience harder than it could've been," Gandalf said, breaking the quiet that had stagnated for hours.

Bilbo jumped a little in his seat, surprised at the kindly, old voice speaking over the purr of the engine. "Er, what do you mean?"

"Thorin was never meant to change you without your permission," he said, glancing over a Bilbo for a moment. "He got carried away and it certainly cracked a bond that could've been better formed. That doesn't mean it's broken, it will just take time to repair."

"…Do you always talk in riddles?"

Gandalf sighed but didn't respond to his question. "I tried to warn you, you know. It seems I was too late."

"You did?"

"I tried to call but you were already… undead."

"Oh? …Oh!" he said, remembering his brief trip back to his flat. "The unknown number."

"I only wish I'd gotten to you sooner. But what's done is done."

Bilbo frowned. "Yeah… I guess so."

The night passed by uneventfully and few words were exchanged between Bilbo and Gandalf after that. He kept his hunger in check even though he could hear the blood rushing through Gandalf's veins. As the darkness slowly inched toward dawn, Thorin flashed his lights, indicating he'd found a place for them to stay the day.

They both pulled off to the side of the road and stepped out of the vehicles, congregating on the grassy side. Thorin pointed off into the woods and Bilbo stared through the leaves and branches, not noticing whatever it was he saw. He squinted hard, trying to put his better eyesight to good use, when he spotted the corner of a small cabin camouflaged several feet into the forest.

"How do you know there's no one in it?" Bilbo asked.

"Use your senses. You'd hear them, smell them." Thorin closed his eyes and concentrated. "That place is empty, at least for right now, and one day is all we need."

They weaved through the trees to the log cabin and broke the lock to get inside. It didn't take them long to cover the windows in preparation for the sun and afterward they crowded together on the few available sleeping surfaces of the two room cabin. Bilbo suffered through no strange dreams that day. In fact, from what he remembered when he woke up, they were almost boringly normal. When darkness fell, they packed up and headed back out to the vehicles for another night of travel.

After filling the tanks with spare gas that only Gandalf had thought to bring, that night passed just as uneventfully as the last. Bilbo wondered if that was as exciting as adventures with vampires got, a lot of driving to far off and remote destinations. He wasn't even sure if they were still in England. He sighed as the trees flew by in a blur and the hours dragged on at a crawl. He was almost relieved when Thorin flashed his lights for them to pull over toward the end of the night.

"What have you found?" Gandalf asked, looked at the scenery around them as he stepped from the car.

"Nothing. That's the problem," Thorin said, walking from the van to meet him.

Bilbo left the car just as the vampires piled out of the van. They looked around at the expanse of forest to see nothing but trees and underbrush.

"So what are you going to do?" Bilbo asked, raising his eyebrows at Thorin.

Thorin tried hard not to glare at him. "The best we can do is use the tarp in the back and secure it over the van."

Gandalf frowned, scanning the area with his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "That's a bad idea, Thorin. Rivendell isn't far away from here. I say we take our chances."

"Our chances are not your chances, Gandalf," Thorin growled, poking him in the chest. "You and the halfling here aren't going to be bursting into flame any time soon."

"Suit yourself. I'm going on ahead," Gandalf said, striding back to the car. "I'm the only one with any sense around here."

Bilbo started to follow but Gandalf raised his hand to signal for him to stop. "They'll need you to look after them."

He didn't even have time to object before Gandalf was in the car and driving away, kicking up the dirt on the road in a vast cloud.

"I guess you're stuck with us now," Thorin said, dark amusement coloring his tone.

"Shut up," Bilbo snapped. "What do we need to do?"

Thorin smirked and beckoned Bilbo to follow him to the back of the van. Dori pulled a folded blue tarp from the floor of the back and shook it open. Thorin, Bilbo, and the ever helpful Ori each grabbed a remaining corner, unfolding it completely. Then the four of them brought it up and over the top of the van, blocking the windows. Once that was done, Thorin opened the back and ushered everyone in.

"Sleep as well as you can, we'll be in wolf territory soon," he said just as he shut the doors.

"What now?" Bilbo asked.

"Now," he said, holding out a roll of duct tape, "once I get in, you use this and secure the tarp. No light can get through."

"And I just sit outside all day," he replied, looking entirely unamused.

"Pretty much. Have fun. Don't let us burn to death."

He thrust the tape into Bilbo's hands and climbed into the driver's seat, ducking under the tarp to get there. Bilbo sighed and looked spitefully at the tape but he secured the tarp down as the cool, night air pressed down on him. It seemed like it was still a few more hours until the sun rose which only meant there was more time where Bilbo wouldn't know what to do with himself. Once the tarp was completely taped and double-checked for holes, Bilbo decided to lay down in the grass and attempt to get a few hours of rest.

Not long after lying down, anywhere from two minutes to half an hour as he had been concentrating hard on falling asleep, he heard an odd shuffling sound nearby. He froze to the spot, trying to listen for where it was coming from and what was causing it. After wracking his brain, he realized it sounded like something brushing past leaves.

As quietly as possible, Bilbo crawled underneath the van in an attempt to see if he could scope out the forest on the other side of the road. He pressed himself flat to the dirt and glanced out to the other side, trying to see anything, when he spotted someone's legs moving toward them. At first, he thought it might've been Gandalf, but then he noticed this person was wearing dark jeans.

Bilbo was wondering if he could take this person in a fight when that pair of legs was joined by another, then another, and another, and he had no idea what was going on or what to do. They approached slowly, carefully, the group building in size to rival the number of vampires in the van. When they reached the edge of the road, they paused, possibly communicating silently so those inside the van wouldn't hear.

After a few moments, they charged the van, swiftly ripping off the tarp and throwing open the doors, catching the sleeping vampires off guard. A chorus of deafening roars echoed in Bilbo's ears as the people outside snatched the whole company from the van and dragged them out kicking and screaming. Bilbo wanted to help but what could he do? He was a single half vampire without the strength, speed, or fangs.

He watched as they were pulled off to the side of the road, at least one person per vampire. Bilbo knew they must've been holding them somehow, otherwise all of those people would've been dead in seconds. He inched a little closer to the other opening beneath the van to get a better look out and saw Thorin and the others being held by silver chains wrapped around their chests.

The men with the chains wore camouflage jackets with belts holding stakes and crosses. Bilbo even saw what he guessed was holy water. He might've laughed if what they were using hadn't been working so well. Thorin looked like he wanted to tear each and every one of them apart with his bare hands and he wasn't alone in that. Kili was kicking and twisting in his restraints to the point where they wrapped a spare chain around his neck, causing him to scream in pain as it seared his flesh.

Kili stopped struggling after that as if they drained his fight from him like blood. The rest of them grew still at the sight of their kin in agony but their expressions told a story of rage and hunger. One of the men, with closely cropped brown hair and a jagged scar on his otherwise average face, distinguished himself from the group.

He stepped back and slowly paced before the vampires, examining each one in turn. The silence and stillness and pacing lasted for a minute until the leader stopped and pointed to his own neck, making a looping motion with his finger. The men handling each vampire immediately shifted the chains up so they wrapped around the vampire's necks.

They howled and screamed in pain, some dropping to their knees as their flesh sizzled and started to smoke. Thorin remained upright, his teeth bared and face contorted in pain, but he kept standing and he refused to cry out. Fili, on one knee, tried to stand up to mirror his uncle's strength, but the man holding his chains kicked him back down. Bilbo could see Thorin wanted to lunge at him but he couldn't move.

"Now, what to do with you _vampires_ ," the leader of the men said, the last word dripping off his tongue in disgust.

"If you let us go now, we'll let you live," Thorin said, his voice still managing to sound hostile and bone-chilling through the pain.

The leader laughed and a few of the other men laughed with him. "You're in no position to be making demands," he said, walking forward until he was inches from Thorin's face. "You should be begging for your life."

Thorin's rage bubbled up, strong and pure. Bilbo could feel it coursing in his own veins through the bond. Thorin lurched forward, reaching only a few centimeters, and roared with the deep ferocity of a feral tiger. The leader stumbled back a few feet, eyes wide with beads of sweat and sudden unsurity forming on his brow.

"I will rip your throat out," he growled.

"I'd like to see you try," he replied after regaining his composure. He turned to look at the other vampires, most of whom had their fangs bared in anger. He stopped when his eyes reached Kili who was on his knees and barely conscious. "That one. Kill him."

"NO!" Thorin screamed.

The rest of the company matched his cries and Thorin and Fili pulled on their restraints, not caring about the silver pushing further into their necks. The muscular man with short, black hair holding Kili's chains grabbed one of the stakes on his belt and pressed it to the spot over his heart. He was about to press in, press harder until it pierced the heart, and Bilbo realized he couldn't sit by and hide any longer. He scrambled out from under the van, standing up before anyone would have the chance to grab him while he was off guard.

"STOP!" he shouted, grabbing everyone's attention.

Every eye was on him and the pressure hit him hard but he also knew he couldn't show weakness. Weakness would mean Kili's death. He stood up straight and put on his best scowl, staring down the leader of the humans.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said in a calm, unsettling voice.

"And why is that?" the leader said, pulling out a stake as he turned to face Bilbo.

Bilbo clenched his fists and ignored all thoughts of what could go wrong. "Because I am Thorin Oakenshield and you just fucked with the wrong vampire."

The company's eyes widened, glancing over at Thorin who stared hard at Bilbo as if trying to read his intentions.

The leader whipped his head around, looking at Thorin then back at Bilbo. "You? But I thought..."

"Him? No," Bilbo said with a short laugh, trying to channel Thorin's angry and abrasive personality. "I just turned him a few months back. Thought he might be of use but he's not much of anything."

Thorin glared at him, his irises like hot blue flames. Bilbo had to ignore it and hope he wouldn't kill him later if they made it out alive.

"Why are you here? You've got my family in chains. I really don't like that. So, why?" Bilbo said, daring a few steps forward until he stood two feet from the leader.

It was a bluff he hoped the human would take because if he chose to stake Bilbo, he couldn't stop him.

"We're hunters. This is what we do. We've been tracking you and your van for days. Imagine if we killed Thorin and his fellow monsters. We'd be heroes."

"Heroes? Is that what you want?" Bilbo said, sneaking a glance at Thorin.

Thorin, he could tell, was slowly preparing something around Bilbo's distraction. Everyone was preoccupied with him so no one would notice Thorin's slight movements as he readied himself. Bilbo just had to keep putting on a show for one more minute.

"You're more likely to be dead than heroes," he hissed. "Go now. Leave us be and go home. Never hunt again."

"Or I could just wait this out, Thorin. Wait until the sun comes up and you all burn. Shouldn't be too much longer now," he said, taking a step forward.

Bilbo silently willed Thorin to make his move before the man in front of him realized he didn't have any fangs. He opened his mouth to make another prolonging remark when a loud crack made everyone turn their heads. Thorin stood, chains piled on the ground by his feet, holding the body of the man who'd been holding him. His head was lolled to the side, neck cleanly broken. Thorin dropped the body and chaos erupted.

The leader leapt at Thorin and Thorin threw a shoulder into his gut, knocking him to the ground. He swiftly stepped in the other direction and knocked an elbow into the head of the man holding Kili who immediately dropped his stake and fell unconscious to the grass. Kili pulled the chains from his neck, his hands burning, skin tearing away with the chains, leaving a bloody ring of red that matched the one around Thorin's neck. Around all of their necks.

Kili launched himself at the man holding Fili, biting and tearing into his neck, spraying blood as the man choked and gurgled. As the men stared on, frozen by shock, the rest of the group fought back, ripping off the silver and into throats. The leader stayed on the ground, remaining still as if pretending to be dead. Bilbo was frozen to the spot where he stood, watching the bloodshed with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

The vampires were soaked in blood, feeding on the hunters until the last drop in their bodies was gone. The leader stared in horror as the thirteen of them hunched over his friends, fangs deep in their veins. He finally found his legs, moving away from the pack and running straight into Bilbo. They were both caught off guard, tumbling to the road, but the leader of the hunters was the first to recover. He wrapped an arm around Bilbo's throat, pulling them both to their feet, and pressed a stake to his heart.

"LET ME GO OR HE DIES," he shouted, pressing the tip of the sharpened stake into Bilbo's chest.

Slowly, each of the vampires looked up, blood coating their faces, eyes black from the rush of the hunt. Bilbo felt the hunter stiffen in fear at the sight. One-by-one, they stood, silently assessing the situation. Thorin looked Bilbo in the eye then turned to his company. Bilbo watched as a silent conversation seemed to pass between them.

"Fine. Go," Thorin said, taking a step forward. "Tell your other friends, if you have any left, to stop hunting or they will meet the same fate."

"FUCK THAT," he screamed, shaking Bilbo, pressing the stake just a little deeper. "I'm going to get everyone I know and come back here. You'll pay for what you did."

Bilbo winced, feeling a stream of blood dripping down his chest from the stake wound.

Thorin looked between Bilbo and the hunter, not wanting to make a misstep that would cost Bilbo his life.

"JUST GO," Thorin growled, trying to disguise the desperation.

"No," he said, a manic thread shaking his voice. "At least one of you has to die."

He pushed the stake in deeper and Bilbo hands shot up, grabbing his arm, trying to pull it away. Everyone charged forward as the two fought against each other. Bilbo gave one last hard pull and the hunter's arm snapped backward with a sickening crack. The hunter howled in agony and Bilbo collapsed to his knees, blood dripping faster from his chest.

Dwalin grabbed the hunter by the shoulder and dragged him away from Bilbo. The hunter's broken bone had ripped through the flesh of his forearm, leaving him unable to defend himself. He looked seconds from bursting into tears as the enraged vampires converged on him and literally tore him apart. His screams lasted little more than a second.

Thorin knelt at Bilbo's side as his company tore flesh and broke bones behind them. He put an arm around Bilbo's shoulders as Bilbo stared in shock at the piece of wood sticking out of his chest. He couldn't remember how to form thoughts or words.

"It's all right, Bilbo," Thorin said in his ear but it sounded so distant. Thorin's hand wrapped around the stake but it didn't quite register with Bilbo. "This is going to hurt for a second."

He pulled hard and the stake came free, causing Bilbo to cry out in pain. The throbbing in his chest brought his mind crashing back to reality. He reached out, clutching the back of Thorin's shirt with one hand and covered the hole in his chest with the other.

"You're all right," Thorin insisted, grabbing his shoulders. He forced Bilbo to look at him; Bilbo still wore a stunned expression. "That was stupid, what you did. Do you hear me?"

Bilbo nodded, feeling blood gush through his fingers but at an increasingly slower rate.

"You almost got yourself killed. You could've killed all of us."

"I-I'm s—"

"—but you saved us." Thorin glanced down for a second, hesitating to look Bilbo in the eye. He seemed to force himself to look and was caught in the dark honey color of Bilbo's eyes for a moment or two. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Bilbo said, looking even paler than usual. "I think I broke his arm."

Thorin laughed. The sound was so warm and rich that the warmth spread through Bilbo, easing his shock and pain. He couldn't help but laugh a little too.

"It's a taste of the strength to come," Thorin said, helping Bilbo to his feet. "Looks like we'll have to start combat training soon."

"Oh, good. Might be useful."

Thorin clapped Bilbo on the shoulder before turning to confer with some of the other vampires. Not much was left of the leader, his parts were scattered along the road where the blood stained the asphalt. Bilbo lifted his shirt to check the hole in his chest to see it had already slowly started to knit itself back together. Thorin and the others had already healed the wounds caused by the silver from all the blood they drank.

Bilbo tried a step forward and winced, pain shooting through him like lightning. He pushed through it, interrupting Thorin's conversation with Balin, Dwalin, and Bofur. As soon as they saw him, he was being pushed around by hugs and pats on the back. All of the vampires were joining in congratulating him but the smell of human blood on all of them was overwhelming.

"Thank you!" he shouted over everyone. "I appreciate it but you should all be getting back in the van or I saved you for nothing."

"Right," Thorin said, looking down the road as if he could see the sun coming. "Everyone in the van. Let's go."

With the last few mumbles of thanks, everyone piled into the back of the van and Thorin shut the doors tight. Bilbo and Thorin grabbed the fallen tarp and repositioned it over the van so Bilbo could secure it again.

"What are we going to do about all of these bodies?" Bilbo asked, looking around at all of the flesh and blood.

"We'll have to bury them tonight," Thorin said. "I didn't intend to kill anyone but hunters are stubborn pests. Most of them have no idea what they're doing and they occasionally get lucky."

"Maybe I'll start while you sleep. Nothing better to do all day."

"It would be much appreciated. But try and rest until you've fully healed."

Bilbo nodded, touching the hole in his shirt, feeling raw flesh. Thorin ducked under the tarp and climbed into the driver's side seat, slamming the door shut behind him. Bilbo found the duct tape in the grass and redid his work as fast as possible as the threat of sunrise loomed. A few minutes after laying down the last piece of tape, the first red of sunlight splashed through the dark sky.

Bilbo sat down, leaning against the van with one hand on his chest. He felt exhausted, ready to fall asleep any second, but he tried his best to stay awake. He didn't know if there were more hunters nearby or not. Instead, he got up, grabbed a good sized rock, and started to dig a hole in the dirt.

After a few hours of digging, Bilbo passed out inside the three foot deep hole and slept for the rest of the day until late afternoon when the sound of a passing car jolted him awake. He felt panicked, thinking more hunters were coming, until he looked out of the hole to see a familiar silver car. He watched as Gandalf parked and stepped out into the road, catching sight of all the strewn bodies. Bilbo pulled himself out of the ground and approached Gandalf.

"What happened here?" he asked, without looking at Bilbo.

"Hunters," Bilbo said.

Gandalf sighed. "I worried it may be something like that. I passed a pack of wolves on my way ahead, they made mention of some of them scouting the area."

"Well, these ones won't be any more trouble."

"True. At quite the cost."

They spoke for a while more as the sun dipped down and the vampires started to stir. Bilbo helped by pulling off the tarp so Thorin and the others could open the doors and stumble out. They stretched their limbs after being stuffed together for so long and walked around. Dwalin and Thorin took initiative and started to dig the graves for all the bodies. Once all of the vampires joined in, it didn't take them long to dig the holes as they were strong and moved at inhuman speeds.

Bilbo stayed off to the side with Gandalf, just watching them work, at least until they started to bury the bodies, dropping each one carelessly in an empty grave. They all hit the ground with a hollow thud and Bilbo tried hard to keep from flinching each time. They quickly filled in the holes, leaving them unmarked other than the way the freshly moved dirt distinguished itself from the rest of the land. In time, that too would blend in and no one would ever know.

Wordlessly, Bilbo picked up his bag from the grass and chose to ride in the van with the other vampires. He walked around the back to follow Ori inside as the others brushed the dirt from their hands when Thorin stopped him.

"You're up front," he said, walking past him to the driver's side.

Slightly shocked, Bilbo walked around to the front of the van and climbed into the passenger's seat, waiting with Thorin until everyone got settled and all the doors were closed. A few minutes later, they were back on the road, following Gandalf's car further into the woods and straight into wolf territory.

Distant howls could be heard, distinguishing the shift even though the scenery continued to look the same. Most likely a call between wolves, alerting the others of the strange new arrivals. Bilbo kept his eyes fixed on the windshield, waiting to see the place they were headed to, but the trees were so dense he couldn't see anything.

"There it is," Thorin said, pointing forward into the forest.

"What? Where?"

"Look hard, above the tree line."

Bilbo obliged, looking over the treetops, and finally spotted it. A few tall spires from the land of the werewolves.

"Rivendell," Thorin said, not trying very hard to hide his distaste.

A chorus of howls echoed through the woods as if responding to the name.


	6. Chapter 6

They followed Gandalf further into the forest, the spires dipping and rising at the top of the trees. Bilbo could feel the mounting tension in the van the deeper they drove into wolf territory. Thorin gripped the steering wheel so hard Bilbo thought he might actually break it off the column. Rather than watch Thorin grind his teeth to dust, he took to staring out of his window, catching glimpses of blurs dashing through the woods.

After Bilbo spent a few minutes squinting through the tree trunks, the van started to slow to a stop. Bilbo looked forward to see the little silver car parked and Gandalf climbing out of his seat, using his cane to steady himself on the dirt and grass. Thorin opened his door and turned toward the mesh divider behind him.

"Everybody out," he said, stepping from the van.

The group in the back came to life and moved toward the double doors, pushing them open and piling out. Bilbo followed suit, dropping out onto the dirt covered pavement with his bag over his shoulder. He closed the door before walking up to Gandalf with the others, a questioning expression on his face.

"We're going to have to walk from here. It's not far, just through there," Gandalf said, pointing behind to the natural break in the trees that formed an arch.

Thorin frowned, gripping the pack in his hand like he could squeeze life from it. "Grab your things and prepare yourselves for a fight."

A few of the vampires returned to the van to grab their bags as Gandalf stared hard at Thorin.

"There will be no fighting, Thorin. Lord Elrond and his pack are not looking to harm anyone," Gandalf said, looking down his nose at Thorin.

Thorin's frown deepened. "The amount of trust I have regarding them doesn't make up a single granule of sand."

"Which is why, Mr. Oakenshield, you won't be doing any of the talking. It's going to take finesse, patience, and no small amount of charm, none of which you have," Gandalf said, shooting him a look before turning to walk toward the arch. "Plus you all still have blood on your faces. Doesn't exactly give the best impression."

Thorin gave an irritated grunt before marching off after him, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and scratching at the dry, flaking blood on his cheek. Bilbo shook his head and followed after, the other vampires on his tail as they all headed into the green forest. It was a breathtaking sight, the trees leaning on either side of the gap, touching at the tall treetops as if some giant had tied them together. Hundreds of flowers of all colors lined the dirt path leading through the arch, a living rainbow that bent and bowed with the breeze.

The area was aromatic with all the different flowery scents. It was the best thing Bilbo had smelt in days of being with a group of constantly blood-soaked vampires. It eased the roaring hunger in his stomach just a little. The only one who seemed to appreciate the flowers as much was Ori, who stopped to admire a tall purple one before plucking it from the massive garden. Bilbo couldn't help but smile as he sniffed it before returning to Nori's side.

As they approached the arch, Bilbo moved to the side so he could see through it past Gandalf. His jaw almost dropped at the massive expanse of green fields and the tall, shining palace towers that he could see, which certainly wasn't all of them. His eyes grew wide with wonder as they walked through to the other side, like stepping through a portal to a whole new world.

The building that came into view on their right was truly a palace. The main building and separate towers were white with blue trim around the impressive doors and vaulted stained glass windows. A matching shade of blue covered the roof tiles and the overall look was awe-inspiringly regal. The sight was far from what Bilbo expected a pack of wolves to live in.

As the others continued to stare at the palace while they walked across the grass, Bilbo glanced out over the courtyard. Out on the cool grass, he spotted a few wolves, tackling each other and rolling around in play. Almost as if they felt him staring, the group of playful wolves broke apart and sat up straight, watching Bilbo with their heads cocked and ears perked.

A growl to his right made Bilbo look away to see Thorin, fangs bared and eyes narrowed at the wolves. When he looked back, the group of wolves were poised to attack, teeth displayed in a mirrored growl. Bilbo punched Thorin's arm in an attempt to get in to keep moving but he was locked into a growling match with the wolves and the rest of the company, including Gandalf, had noticed, causing them to stop in their tracks.

"Thorin, stop this nonsense," Gandalf said, irritation and an ever-thinning patience plain in his tone. "We've been here one minute. You're not going to get help from them by starting fights."

His words floated over the vampire's heads as more of them started to join in. Thorin grabbed Bilbo by the back of his shirt and pulled him back so that a wall of vampires stood between him and the wolves. Bilbo, succumbing to Thorin's wishes, shared a look with Gandalf where they agreed they were two of the smartest people there when a loud, echoing whistle caused the wolves to immediately sit up at attention, backing off from the fight. The growling vampires also ceased, but more out of curiosity than anything. They turned their heads to see a tall man walking towards them with long, brown hair that was pulled back into a ponytail with the exception of a few loose, plaited strands.

He was dressed very finely in black trousers and shoes with a tucked in white dress shirt and a rust-colored waistcoat. The wolves stretched out their front legs and lowered the top half of their bodies in a bow as he approached. He slightly inclined his head toward them and they dispersed, bounding off toward the forest and disappearing in the trees.

"Mithrandir," the man said warmly in greeting to Gandalf.

"Lord Elrond. It's good to see you," he replied.

"You as well. And I see you've brought company," he said, looking around Gandalf to Thorin.

Bilbo could feel the tension radiating off of him as he stood as straight and still as possible.

"Thorin Oakenshield," Elrond said, respectfully bowing his head a little. "We've not had the pleasure of meeting but I knew your grandfather when he sat on the throne in Erebor."

Thorin's eyebrows rose fractionally as his hands curled into fists from the tense energy. "He never spoke of you."

Elrond shrugged, his every movement very calculated and precise as well as graceful. "I'm sure he had his reasons. Welcome to our home Thorin and company. I can see you're all travel weary. We have food and beds to spare." He gave the vampires a once over, head cocking to the side a little. "We also have showers with plenty of hot water."

"I thought Gandalf said you all practice the old ways," Bilbo interjected, curiosity getting the better of him.

Elrond smiled down at him. "We practice the old traditions. It doesn't mean we must live in the dark ages. Modern days have brought conveniences we'd be fools to ignore."

A few inquisitive wolves and people had started to gather around them, causing some of the vampires to shift and fidget uncomfortably. Gandalf, picking up on the increasing discomfort, turned to Elrond. "I think perhaps we should get these men cleaned and fed before their already irrational impulses grow worse."

Elrond nodded. "Of course," he said, shooing the wolves and people away with a wave of his hand. "Follow me and feel free to stay as long as you see fit."

He turned and led the group across the courtyard, up the front steps to the large, heavy, wooden doors of the main building. Elrond practically glided as he walked, as if the ground were ice rather than grass. Bilbo looked up at the sky, seeing the stars and the moon, almost full with the slightest of slivers shaved off. He could've stared into the sky for hours, but a hand on the small of his back guided him forward. Thorin gently nudged him through the threshold and into the stunning foyer.

The wooden floors were finely polished and old, ornate rugs were rolled out along the floors like red carpet walkways. They led down two halls, one to the left, the other to the right, as well as straight ahead to a grand staircase that split into two different directions halfway up, curving so that the full shape of the staircase resembled something like a magnifying glass. Elrond slipped off his shoes at the door and Bilbo and Gandalf respectfully followed suit. Thorin and the others seemed a little hesitant to do the same, jerkily reaching down to their laces as if their brains ran on a dial-up connection. After a few minutes, all thirteen pairs of muddy, blood-stained shoes were lined up beside the door, leaving the vampires looking more uncomfortable than ever. Bilbo found it more than a little amusing.

Elrond started up the stairs and Bilbo followed after him, the others close behind.

"Lord Elrond—" Bilbo started.

"—just Elrond is fine," he said politely.

Bilbo nodded. "Elrond, why is it that some of you are wolves right now and some aren't? I thought you only changed at the full moon."

"Well, Mister…"

"Baggins. Bilbo Baggins."

"Mr. Baggins, you saw the moon, did you not?"

"I did," he said, looking up a little as if he could still see it rather than the high, cathedral ceilings.

"It's not quite full, though it will be tomorrow. The youngest of us are much more effected by its influence and are sometimes forced to change not just at the full moon but also the nights before and after."

"Huh, I guess that makes sense," Bilbo mused.

"Well, I would certainly hope so, Mr. Baggins, though sense is relative to both the subject and the beholder."

"I can see why you and Gandalf are friends," Bilbo mumbled as they reached the second landing from the right side of the staircase.

Bilbo looked from the left to the right and all he could see were doors. Elrond kept moving down to the right hall, walking all the way to the end and opening the second to last door. Bilbo and the others followed close behind and looked through the door to another hall of doors. The hall was long with white walls and ornate wooden wainscoting. There were four doors on each side of the hall.

"Down here are some of our guest rooms," Elrond said, stepping to the side. "In the door just to the left are another eight rooms. You may drop off your belongings and get comfortable."

Thorin gipped his pack tightly, as if he thought the werewolves might steal it if he even set it down for a moment.

"The guest showers are in this last door on the right. You may explore the palace as you wish, I only ask that no one causes any altercations. We live so far from humans because we seek peace but we are not untrained in combat," he said with a pointed look at Thorin.

With a grunt of indifference, Thorin brushed past Elrond into the hall of rooms. Bilbo sighed, shaking his head.

"Sorry about him," Bilbo said as he followed after Thorin.

"It's all right, Mr. Baggins. He has his reasons," Elrond said before turning to Gandalf. "I'll be in my chambers. If anyone needs me, you can stop those passing in the halls and they'll guide you. Same goes for if anyone needs help finding the dining hall."

"Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Elrond. I say it for them as well."

"No need, Mithrandir. My home is open to all who need it."

Elrond bowed his head slightly before gliding away, down the hall to the left side and then out of sight. Bilbo punched Thorin on the arm as hard as he could and Thorin staggered back a little.

"What?" Thorin growled.

"Stop that. He's been nothing but kind. At the very least you could tone down the aggression," Bilbo snapped.

"Sure, they seem kind now, but when you actually need their help, they'll leave you to burn," Thorin said, strangling the non-existent life from the strap of his backpack.

"At least try. From what I've seen so far, this is probably the nicest place we'll be for the entire trip."

"I don't want to be here long."

"None of us do," Kili remarked.

"Speak for yourselves," Bilbo grumbled.

"All right, room assignments," Thorin said, taking control. "I'll take the room at the end on the right, Bilbo, the room next to mine, Fili and Kili across from us. Next to Bilbo will be Balin and Dwalin and across from them is Oin and Gloin. The other six of you and Gandalf have your pick of the rooms next door."

In military fashion, the vampires departed, going into their assigned rooms. Thorin slammed his door behind him and Fili, seemingly unable to leave his brother's side, threw his bag in his own room and then barged into Kili's. Bilbo rolled his eyes and turned to go into his own room. He opened the door and slipped inside, closing it before groping the wall for a light switch.

When he found it, he clicked it on, illuminating the gorgeously decorated room. A theme of the color blue ran throughout as a light shade of it covered the walls, the bed sheets, and the lampshades. The curtains and the comforter were a darker shade with silver swirling designs. Everything about the palace was surprisingly elegant, each room decorated with such care. He wondered if each room had a different design or if they all looked the same as he padded across the wooden floor in his socks.

The room itself was big enough to comfortably hold one person or a close couple. The bed was full-sized and the only other pieces of furniture were a dark, hand-carved wooden end table and a matching dresser. Each bore carvings that looked like leafy vines growing up the sides of the pieces. The detail given to both of them left him awe-struck.

Bilbo removed his messenger bag and set it down at the foot of the bed before sitting on it himself. As he sank down a little into the soft mattress, he realized just how tired he felt after everything he'd been through. Unsurprisingly, sleeping on floors and in half-dug graves just wasn't cutting it and a bed felt like lying on a cloud with a freshly brewed cup of tea. He started to wonder if they would make him tea as he lay back on the bed, closing his eyes for just a second.

That one second melted away before he realized what happened and woke with a start some time later. He wasn't sure how much time had passed and it took a moment of collecting his thoughts before he even comprehended he fell asleep. He looked around the room for something to tell the time and saw an older analog alarm clock on the end table.

The clock read that it was four fifteen in the morning, meaning it was still dark and only a couple of hours had passed. He rubbed his eyes when the thought of tea returned to his mind. It was certainly tempting but he figured he should clean up first and put on a nicer change of clothes. He managed to detach himself from the bed and drop onto the floor, groggily leaving his room and walking down the hall and through the other door. He immediately turned to the door on the right, remembering Elrond said that's where the showers were, and entered the room without registering the sound of water already running.

Bilbo simply assumed that everyone else would've already showered by then as he walked through the short maze of white tiled walls and floors with royal blue accents. However, as he cleared the last wall into the open area, he was caught by surprise at the sight of Thorin, standing under steaming hot water as he washed the blood from his hair.

He stopped in his tracks, swallowing hard even though he could only see from the waist up due to the dividers separating the different showers. Thorin reached up and ran his fingers through his hair, flexing the defined muscles in his back and arms. Then there were the tattoos. He had two thick, black bands encircling his bicep, with a mirrored design on his other arm, and lines of undecipherable runes down his back.

The steam from the water coated his skin, making it warm and clammy as he stood frozen to the spot, unsure if he should turn back or continue on, when Thorin turned his head to see him.

"Bilbo. I thought you intended to sleep through the day," Thorin remarked casually, turning his body to face him as the water continued stream over it.

"Uh, no," Bilbo said, trying very hard to only look at his face. "I fell asleep on accident and figured I should clean up and put on fresh clothes."

"There's a changing room in the back and plenty of showers," he said, pointing to the open doorway behind him.

"Yes, thank you. I can, um, see that."

Bilbo's gaze wandered down to Thorin's chest for a moment, taking in the sight. There was another tattoo over Thorin's heart, like a geometric flower with four petals.

"Do you plan to just stand there the whole time?" Thorin asked, raising a questioning eyebrow at him.

"No, I'll just—I, well, I've never used a shower that is quite so… open," Bilbo said warily.

Thorin cracked a smile as he ran his hands through his hair again. "You don't have anything I've never seen before, but if it eases your nerves, I promise I won't look."

"Uh, thanks. Thank you," he said, glancing down at his feet.

"Not that you've given me the same courtesy," he said, a playful smirk on his face as he turned back to face the wall.

Bilbo knew if his heart still beat, his face would be as red and hot as burning coals. He wanted to slink back to his room in shame but he was already there, so he rushed across the room, taking great care not to look as he passed Thorin's stall, and walked into the changing room. The room was small and decorated just like the rest of the showers except that there were wooden benches spaced evenly across the floor and shelves for clothes and other belongings along the walls.

On top of the shelves were fresh, soft, blue towels, though not many were left as all of the vampires had already showered and used them. Bilbo grabbed one and set it down on the nearest bench before hesitantly undressing. He felt paranoid that Thorin would walk in any moment and see him. He wouldn't mind so much, he thought, if he were a little more fit but he never bothered taking especially good care of his body. He wasn't unhealthy but he certainly wasn't anything in Thorin's league. He stabbed at his gut with an accusing finger, feeling embarrassed to go back out there, but he knew he had to just get it over with. Thorin did promise he wouldn't look.

He wrapped the towel around his bare waist and walked back out into the open space where Thorin was still showering. With a determined pace, he crossed the room to a stall on the wall opposite the one Thorin was using so he could at least pretend no one else was there. He paused for a moment as if to ready himself and removed the towel, hanging it on a nearby metal rack where it wouldn't get caught in the water before he had the chance to use it.

With that, there was nothing left to lose, so he turned on the water and let it wash over him. He felt grateful for it as the dirt and blood in his hair and on his skin flowed down the drain at his feet, swirling in a mix of stained pink liquid. He ran his hands through his curls to shake the rest of it loose and just enjoyed the warmth the water brought down on him. He ended up so lost in the comfort that it was a few minutes before he realized, his shower was the only one running.

Bilbo turned to look and saw that Thorin was gone, probably already dressed and back in his room. He relaxed a little, knowing he was the only one there and that no one else would be intruding. Still, he finished up his shower as fast as possible, just in case. He dried off with the towel and left it in the changing room after changing back into his old clothes. He walked out of the shower room feeling lighter, cleaner, and overall happier, thoughts of embarrassment at the back of his mind.

Once back in his room, he could almost feel that the dawn was approaching and his previous tiredness seeped back into him. He managed to change into a new pair of clothes—black trousers and a white t-shirt—before turning off the lights and crawling under the covers for a proper day's rest. It wasn't long before he fell asleep and, soon after that, a dream stole him away.

In the dream, he saw himself sitting on the end of the guest room bed, his consciousness being a fly on the wall to the scene. The room colors were wrong, he noticed, rather than blue and silver, most of the décor was red and gold. He sat there for a few moments, his nose buried in a book with a blank cover, when the door opened and closed. Both Bilbos, the body and the consciousness, looked over to see Thorin standing in front of the door. In two great strides, Thorin stood in front of Bilbo and plucked the book from his hands.

"Hey! I was reading that. What do you want?" Bilbo complained.

"What do I want?" Thorin replied, appearing as though he was seriously contemplating the question. "I want my home back. I want my gold. I want my people safe. And I want you."

"…Me?"

Thorin tossed the book over his shoulder and grabbed Bilbo's legs, pulling him forward until his thighs were at Thorin's hips, tipping him back on the bed. "Yes."

"Oh," Bilbo replied a little breathlessly as he kept himself propped up by his elbows.

Thorin, with one hand still holding onto Bilbo's left thigh, leaned down and cupped Bilbo's cheek, his fingers stretching into the hair at the back of his neck. He pulled Bilbo's face up to meet him in a starved, frustrated kiss. But as hungry as Thorin's kiss was, Bilbo matched him as he threw his arms around Thorin's neck, forcing him back a few steps into the wall. Bilbo wrapped his legs around Thorin's waist and Thorin supported the rest of his weight from one well-placed hand under Bilbo's thigh.

They kissed furiously, as if they hadn't in years. Bilbo shifted his head so that it was nearly resting on Thorin's shoulder as he placed open-mouthed kisses and bites along the flesh of his neck. A repressed, guttural moan pressed against Thorin's closed lips as he leaned his head to the side so Bilbo would have more space to work with.

Thorin had to concentrate to keep his grip from going slack but he managed to keep Bilbo from falling to the floor. After a few minutes, Thorin shook him off and nudged Bilbo's head to the side, leaving kisses along Bilbo's jawline and soft bites that made him hiss in pain and pleasure. In the moment, he bit down harder, drawing blood and a sharp cry from Bilbo. Thorin immediately pulled back, checking to see if Bilbo was okay, his eyes brimming with concern.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. It's okay," Bilbo said with a soft smile.

With the permission, Thorin's eyes grew dark as he threw Bilbo onto the bed. He moved to meet him, shedding his jacket and shirt in the process, and fit himself between Bilbo's legs. He leaned forward, placing his hands on either side of Bilbo's head, trapping him there, but Bilbo just reached up and ran his fingers over the tattoo on his chest, carefully tracing the lines.

Thorin grabbed Bilbo's hand from his chest and kissed his palm. Bilbo cupped Thorin's cheek just before he moved to kiss Bilbo's wrist, his lips pressing on the point where his pulse would've been. He moved Bilbo's arm so that it wrapped around his neck and bent down to kiss him softly. Bilbo smiled into it as it picked up pace and heat.

A growl rumbled in Thorin's throat as he pulled back for a second before going back to Bilbo's neck where two drops of blood had been spread over the skin. He slowly licked it away, taking his time, until he couldn't help himself and bit down hard. Blood gushed from the wound as Bilbo arched his back with a hard gasp. His reaction only made Thorin bite harder, drawing more blood as well as a moan that Bilbo couldn't contain.

Thorin swallowed each mouthful of blood, pulling out his fangs after a minute before he drank too much. Bilbo grabbed Thorin by the shoulders and rolled them both over so that he was on top, straddling Thorin's hips. Bilbo's blood covered Thorin's lips and dripped down his chin, prompting Bilbo to lick away the drops before kissing his lips, tasting his own blood on his tongue.

In one swift movement, Thorin grabbed the hem of Bilbo's shirt and pulled it over his head, barely interrupting their kiss for a moment. His hands trailed down Bilbo's chest and abdomen, pausing at the top of his trousers for a long second before adeptly undoing the button and zipper. Bilbo started to move his kisses downward, lingering along Thorin's chest and sternum until he was leaving them along Thorin's waistline, making him grasp fistfuls of the blanket beneath him out of frustration.

Bilbo unbuttoned his jeans and yanked them down before Thorin realized what happened. He looked into Bilbo's eyes and saw love and a deep-seated hunger that was enough to make him harder than he already was. Bilbo's consciousness, the one watching from afar, saw that Thorin was about to retake control when the dream broke apart to utter blackness.

A howl of pain tore through Bilbo's peace, scaring him awake. He shot up in bed, eyes wide and hands holding his covers in a vice-like grip. He waited, the dead silence settling over everything like dust for a few moments until the unsettling, bone-chilling cries shattered it. Bilbo scrambled from the bed and ran from the room, looking out of his door as the others did the same.

Dwalin and Balin stood in the hall, looking at each other and then at the door that led out to the second floor. The other vampires emerged, alert and confused as they blinked at each other and at the door. Thorin burst from his room last, glancing at everyone in the hall as if to check they weren't the ones screaming. He was topless, but he held a black shirt in his hand that he pulled over his head as he marched toward the door everyone felt hesitant to open.

He threw open the door and walked out, everyone at his heels. Those in the rooms next door were already out on the second floor landing, looking over the railing at the floor below. Thorin smoothed out his shirt over his abdomen as he approached Gandalf and Bilbo and the others rejoined the rest of the company.

"What's going on?" Thorin demanded, staring at Gandalf.

Gandalf pointed down at the floor below them. "They're changing."

Thorin moved around Gandalf to the other side so he could see over the rail and Bilbo and the other six vampires followed, rushing toward a place where they could see down into the foyer. Another cry echoed through the palace, followed by another and another, as Bilbo looked down to see hundreds of people gathering together on the floor below.

All of them were naked but completely unashamed as they started to slowly pour out into the courtyard. The full moon's glow shone through the massive windows, bathing everyone in the foyer in its light. A handful of those on the floor were hunched over, already starting the change, wailing in pain so much that it made Bilbo feel uncomfortable for watching.

As the seconds passed, more and more people started to scream, collapsing to the ground as their bones cracked so loud that it carried well through the palace halls. Bilbo flinched as he watched their bodies change. Hair grew all over them as their bones broke and reset in a new shape. They cried out, suffering through unimaginable pain, but it turned to howls as their skulls shattered and changed, elongating into a wolf's snout.

It was bewildering to watch as the hundreds of people slowly turned into hundreds of wolves, their fur mimicking their hair colors. The whole affair seemed chaotic but once everyone had completed the change, an eerie calm settled in as if they hadn't just experience excruciating agony. Most of the wolves had made it out into the courtyard when a large wolf with brown fur padded forward, head held high, and cut through the crowd. The other wolves all parted for it, dropping their heads in a bow.

"Elrond?" Bilbo asked.

"Indeed it is," Gandalf said.

After he passed through the threshold, the remaining wolves followed him out into the night, gathering around him, just waiting. The wolf that was Elrond sat up straight, threw its head back, and howled at the moon. The rest of the pack joined him in unison, raising the hairs on Bilbo's arms with their resounding bays. When they finished, the whole army of wolves bolted into the forest in divided packs, spreading out amongst the trees.

"I guess that leaves the whole palace to us for the night," Bilbo said, staring down at the front doors.

Thorin released a frustrated growl, kicking the metal railing half-heartedly. "Fuck!"

"What?" Bilbo asked, turning toward him.

"I didn't want to spend more time here," he said, his expression showing his anger.

"I don't like it much more than you do, but it'll only be another couple of days," Balin said, placing a reassuring hand on Thorin's shoulder.

"A couple of days of wasting time," Thorin snapped, causing Balin to withdraw his hand. "…Sorry. You're right, Balin. We'll be back on the road soon."

"In the meantime," chimed Dwalin, "we should make good use of their dining hall."

"If we can find it," Ori mumbled as they all looked around the great expanse of the building.

"I'm certain I know the way," Gandalf said a little wearily. "It's been a while but I'm sure it's to the left."

Gandalf started off down the left side of the floor and the vampires followed after. However, Bilbo lingered at the railing, resting his arms on top of the metal as he looked down at the long drop. Thorin hesitated when he saw him standing there, halfway between Bilbo and the others.

"Are you coming?" he asked, hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"Hm?" Bilbo said, looking back. "No, I'm not hungry. I think I'll just go back to my room."

Thorin cocked his head to the side, staring hard at him.

"What? I'm not."

"Have you even had blood yet?"

"Yes," Bilbo replied without hesitation. "I drank that bag you gave me just after the fight with the hunters."

Thorin narrowed his eyes at Bilbo, trying to stare through him. "I really hope you did."

He turned and walked away, taking his time in catching up with everyone else, leaving Bilbo behind. Bilbo took one sweeping look at the great palace, with all the rooms to explore, and did exactly what he said he was going to do. He returned to his room and made himself comfortable on the great bed, grabbing his bag to look for the notebook and pen.

As soon as he opened the flap, the bag of blood slid out, untouched. Just the sight of it made Bilbo's stomach clench up, the pain sending shocks through his body. He felt exhausted, even after a full day of rest, and all he could do was curl up and ride the pain out. Without daring another glance at it, Bilbo blindly groped for the bag and put it back inside where it wouldn't plague him.

He shook as the last of the shocks ran through him, afraid to uncurl his body in case they started up again. His skin looked even paler than normal and it felt about as cold as the middle of winter. Bilbo believed he felt about as sick as someone in his condition could feel. Slowly, he uncurled his body and rolled over onto his back, taking a deep breath of cool air to calm himself. He relaxed for a long moment until he was sure the waves of hunger had passed and sat up, trying again to look for his notebook.

He approached it more carefully, avoiding the part of his bag where the blood was stored, and found both objects under a stack of clothes. He closed the bag and nudged it away from him as he opened the notebook to a fresh page and started to write.

_29/3/2012_

_So much has happened the past few days. I think after saving their lives, by some miracle, I've started to fit into the group. Thorin is acting a lot friendlier toward me now, anyway. I'll just have to wait and see how long that actually lasts. I'm not really sure what I'm going to do with my life anymore. Can I really go back after all this? A better question is, will I make it back?_

_I think… I think I might be dying._

_I know I should be drinking blood, but I can't bring myself to do it, even if it would save my life. But I also don't want to die. I don't know what I'm going to do. I'd talk to Thorin about it, but something tells me he wouldn't be so understanding. Maybe one of the others, like Balin or Bofur. I've also been having the strangest dreams. Some of them are of things I've never even seen before, like this one about fire and people I've never met screaming and dying. And then today… Well, that wasn't as strange, just unexpected. Perhaps I should talk to one of the others about that too. It could be a side effect of something._

_But, after all that I've gone through this past week, I can only hope things will get better and not worse. With my condition, I might be feeling too optimistic. I hope not, though…_

A knock on the door stopped him from continuing. He closed the notebook and stuck the pen in the spiral binding before shoving it in his bag.

"Who is it?" he asked, lying down to make it look like he'd been napping.

"It's Thorin. May I come in?"

"Yeah, sure," Bilbo said, rubbing his eyes of the exhaustion he felt.

Thorin walked in, leaving the door open as he looked over at Bilbo. He seemed to freeze where he stood, at a complete loss for words. Thorin rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat as Bilbo realized that the situation was reminiscent of the dream he'd only just had. Immediately after thinking it, he sat up and crossed his arms over his lap.

"Did you want something?"

"Yes, I… Are you feeling all right?" Thorin asked, staring at Bilbo as if he were only just really seeing him.

"Yes," Bilbo said, eyeing him warily. "Why?"

"You look drained."

Bilbo frowned, realizing he must look as bad as he felt. "I just didn't sleep well last night. Must be too used to sleeping on floors."

"Yeah, right," Thorin said, the edges of his mouth tugging down. "Maybe I'll go ask someone else."

"No, what?" Bilbo said as Thorin turned to leave.

Thorin's eyes scanned over Bilbo, assessing him. "Think you're up for it?"

"Er, yes?"

"Follow me, then," he said with a slight shrug.

Thorin bounded out of his room and Bilbo had to scramble off the bed and out of the door just to keep up. He practically ran out onto the second floor and followed Thorin down the stairs, two at a time. They both stopped to pull on their shoes and walked outside into the fresh night air. Bilbo kept his eyes on Thorin, noticing the tension in his back through his t-shirt and how he kept curling his fingers into fists. He was uncomfortable in wolf territory; it set him on edge and he needed to get out.

"What's this about?" Bilbo asked as Thorin jogged across the grass of the courtyard.

"Remember when I said we'd start combat training soon?" Thorin called from the middle of the yard.

"Yeah," Bilbo replied.

"Soon is now!"

"This ought to be interesting," Bilbo mumbled under his breath.

Thorin bounced around, light on his feet, before taking up a fighting stance. Bilbo, on the other hand, ambled to meet him in the middle, hands shoved into his pockets. Thorin dropped his stance when he saw that Bilbo didn't match his enthusiasm.

"You're not taking this seriously enough," Thorin said, his eyes dark and narrowed.

Bilbo shrugged and opened his mouth to speak when a blur of a fist flew at his face, stopping mere centimeters away from his nose. He swallowed hard, taking a step back as he pushed Thorin's fist away from him.

"All right, fine," he conceded, putting up his fists to mirror Thorin. "Teach me to fight."

"You can't throw punches until you learn to avoid them. Your first task is simple. Don't get hit," Thorin said, flashing his fangs in a smile filled with dark humor.

"So bloody simple," Bilbo huffed, feeling tense as he waited for Thorin to try and hit him.

Thorin moved slowly, a panther on the hunt, as he edged to Bilbo's right. Bilbo watched him carefully but was still caught off guard when Thorin struck, moving fast but not to his full potential. Bilbo turned and jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding the punch, but Thorin immediately struck again, catching Bilbo square in the chest. He toppled over, landing on his back in the soft grass. There was nothing he could do but lay there for a minute, regaining his bearings.

Thorin stood over him and held out a hand to help him up. "Rule one, never stop moving," he said as Bilbo accepted the offer. "Staying stationary is for those who know they have the upper hand. It's best to stay unpredictable."

Bilbo nodded, finding his feet again.

"Try and block my shots, if you can. It's effective when combined with dodging if you can't move out of the way fast enough."

"You are impossible," Bilbo sighed, exasperated.

Thorin backed up a few feet, repositioning his fighting stance. "Just let your instincts guide you."

Thorin didn't wait long before attacking, but Bilbo stopped thinking so hard about it and was able to throw up an arm to block his. He felt proud of himself until Thorin hit his chin hard, sending Bilbo reeling back a few steps. He shook off the pain and put his fists back up as quickly as he could, realizing that the advice to keep moving was given for a reason.

Bilbo ducked as Thorin threw another punch and he moved to the side as he swung again. The next hit landed on his left shoulder blade, causing Bilbo to cry out. Thorin hit him again and again and Bilbo was getting frustrated as he tried to avoid him. The next punch was aimed at his face and Bilbo reached up and caught his fist, surprising Thorin. In the next moment he struck out to Thorin's gut but Thorin grabbed his wrist and pinned Bilbo's arm behind his back.

He tried to struggle out of Thorin's grip but only succeeded in getting his other arm trapped behind his back too. Thorin laughed and a chill crept its way up Bilbo's spine. In a swift movement, Thorin used his free hand to grab a fistful of Bilbo's curls and jerk his head to the side. Bilbo winced, feeling the bones in his neck groan.

"What did I say about throwing punches?" Thorin said, his lips slightly brushing Bilbo's neck. "You'd be dead right now."

"When I'm stronger, I'm going to kick your ass," Bilbo said, failing at trying to free his arms.

"I look forward to it."

Thorin let go of Bilbo's arms and jumped back as he swung a fist at him. Bilbo watched him for a moment, noticing how he seemed both relaxed and energized, like he could fight forever and never lose steam. The sparring match had been more of a reason for him to unwind than train Bilbo. It almost would've been endearing if the whole time hadn't been spent trying to avoid getting hit.

They fought outside for over an hour as Bilbo slowly started to improve. By the end, he was only taking occasional hits and Thorin was showing more of his strength. However, Thorin seemed to notice how ragged Bilbo was starting to feel. His flesh was devoid of all color, his eyes looked dark and sunken, and his movements were starting to slow.

Thorin backed off, dropping his stance and taking a step away. Bilbo dropped his arms too, reveling in the relief from it as they'd started to feel like they weighed a ton each. Thorin looked genuinely concerned but Bilbo flashed him a weak smile to try to show he was okay. He stole a shaky step toward Thorin and staggered, dropping to his knees.

In an instant, Thorin was kneeling in front of him, holding him up by the shoulders.

"I guess that took a lot out of me," he practically whispered through half closed eyes.

Thorin grabbed Bilbo's face, feeling his skin, checking his eyes. He looked truly frightened. Bilbo tried to reach out and comfort him, but he couldn't lift his arm. His vision started to blur and dim but Thorin shook him back into focus.

"YOU HAVE TO STAY AWAKE," he said, his expression a mixture of anger and fear.

"But I'm so tired…"

"You haven't fed, have you? You bloody stupid excuse of a man," Thorin growled as he positioned one arm under Bilbo's and the other under his legs.

He lifted him up easily, carrying him across the courtyard to the front doors.

"I'm sorry," Bilbo said, his voice barely audible. "I just couldn't."

"Bullshit," Thorin snapped, moving as fast as possible into the foyer. "You wouldn't. And now you will."

"But I…"

Bilbo's sentence got away from him as his vision darkened again. His head lolled back, unable to keep it up anymore, and he wanted nothing more than to shut his eyes and sleep. Thorin shook him in his arms but it only brought him out of it by a small fraction.

"Stay awake! Please, you have to," Thorin begged. "BILBO!"

Thorin's words started to blend together and Bilbo gave in, shutting his eyes as he was jostled up the stairs. Sleep was so close as the darkness edged in, slowly silencing the world around him before working on his own thoughts. Suddenly and violently, he was tossed onto a bed, causing him to reopen his eyes. Thorin was rummaging through his messenger bag and pulled out the plastic pouch of blood.

"No, I—"

"You have to drink it," Thorin demanded, thrusting it out to him.

"I'm just so tired…"

"You're not tired, you're dying! Drink it!" Thorin shouted, his voice echoing through the halls.

"NO!" Bilbo mustered, trying to push it away.

Thorin looked almost defeated, slumped forward as he ran his free hand through his hair. He looked at Bilbo with a determined expression as a soft word passed across his lips. To Bilbo, it sounded a lot like 'sorry'.

"Bilbo, _drink it_ ," Thorin said calmly, holding out the blood to Bilbo.

Bilbo's eyes widened, pupils dilating. That sounded like a great idea, the best he'd ever heard. He snatched the bag from Thorin's hand and tore open the top with his teeth, spilling a little of the contents down the side. He eagerly brought it go his mouth, squeezing plastic as he gulped down mouthful after mouthful, never pausing. The blood covered his bottom lip and dripped down his chin as he frantically devoured the whole bag. But, as soon as the last drop slid down his throat, what he'd just done didn't seem like all that good of an idea anymore.

Bilbo looked down with wide eyes at the empty bag and dropped it like it had burned him. He stared nearly horrified at the flecks of blood on his hands and gagged at the thick, metallic taste coating his mouth. He looked up at Thorin, whose face was set in stone, and his expression turned from horrified to furious.

"Get. Out," Bilbo said.

"Listen to me, please," Thorin started, trying to explain himself. Bilbo didn't want to hear it.

"Get out of my room."

"JUST LISTEN!"

"GET OUT!"

Bilbo shoved Thorin towards the door and Thorin stumbled forward a few steps. Already, his strength was returning. Thorin looked like he wanted to turn around but instead he threw a hard punch at the wall beside the door frame, plowing his fist through it. He withdrew his bloody hand after a moment and walked across the threshold, turning to face Bilbo once on the other side. The two stared at each other for a long second, one in anger and one in apology.

"It was for your own good," Thorin said, his deadpan expression starting to crumble.

Bilbo shook his head and slammed the door in his face. He stared furiously at the dark wood before leaning his back against it and crumpling to the floor, burying his face in his knees.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers! I apologize for how long this chapter has taken to complete and I thank you for bearing with me. I hope that from now on I'll be able to get the chapters out at a much faster pace and I hope you enjoy this one.

Bilbo spent the rest of the night and the next day locked in his room. He remained curled up on his bed, falling in and out of sleep only to be woken by occasional knocks on his door by various concerned parties that he ignored. He felt rejuvenated but the sickness he held in his core kept him in bed. Time grew muddled; he wasn't sure if it was moving too fast or too slow.

He could've stayed there for days on end but a couple of persistent knockers finally burst into the room, rousing Bilbo from a light sleep. He continued to face away from the door, hoping they'd just leave, but instead they threw themselves onto the bed, jostling him around. A pair of hands grabbed Bilbo's arm and forced him onto his back so that he was staring hard at the ceiling. Fili and Kili looked over him, their curious heads popping into his field of vision.

Bilbo groaned. "What?"

"We don't know what happened between you two, but we know our uncle wants to apologize," Fili said, sitting back on the bed as Bilbo pushed himself up.

"Does he?" he said, unconvinced.

"Well, not in so many words…" Kili said, picking at the sleeve of his black jacket.

"I didn't think so." Bilbo frowned and rubbed his eyes.

"But we can tell he's sorry. He's not talking and he's barely leaving his room," Kili defended.

"How is that different from any other day?"

Fili and Kili glanced at each other, frowns causing their brows to crinkle. After a moment of staring and silent communication, they shrugged.

"We guess that's true," Fili said. "You'll have to talk to him yourself."

Bilbo shook his head, a wide range of disagreements sitting on the tip of his tongue. He bit them all back, swallowing them down where they couldn't slip out against his will. Instead, he flopped back onto his pillow and stared at the ceiling so he wouldn't have to look at Thorin's nephews.

"I have no desire to see him now or any time soon," he said in a resigned, frustrated tone.

"Bilbo," Kili began before Bilbo cut him off.

"No," he said. "Just… leave. Please."

A few seconds passed before he felt the bed shift around him as the two off them slipped off of it. He didn't bother to look, only listened as Fili and Kili walked out of the room, closing the door behind them. Hushed voices spoke to one another just outside, two more voices with Fili and Kili. Bilbo didn't even care what they could have been saying about him.

He closed his eyes and wished that when he opened them, he would be home, in his own bed, about to rise for another day of work. He wanted the simplicity back. But, when his eyelids slid open, he remained in the beautifully decorated room with a hole punched through the wall and felt the human blood thrumming through his system, giving him strength and power.

A wave of nausea just thinking about it hit him like one of Thorin's punches. The sickest part to him was that he remembered how it tasted and he knew he liked it. The thought of the metallic, red liquid coating his tongue, exciting his taste buds, dripping down his throat caused his stomach to contract in anticipation. He hated himself for feeling it.

A groan of self-pity stirred in his chest as he rolled over on his side, folding his knees up to his chest. He wondered how long it would take for him to rot away into nothing in that room, how many days without feeding it would take, when someone else barged in.

"Your presence has been requested, Mr. Baggins," a soft, calm voice said.

Bilbo glanced over his shoulder to see Balin standing in the doorway. Bilbo frowned, wishing everyone would leave him alone. "By who?"

"By Gandalf. The meeting with Elrond about the map is set to begin soon and he would like you to be there."

He sounded both kind and patient, being one of the few who hadn't tried to disturb him yet. Bilbo considered it, knowing Thorin would be there as well, but he thought it to be poor manners if he were to deny Gandalf who had helped him so much already. He sighed, rolling off the side of the bed to land on his feet. He looked down at his rumpled t-shirt and trousers before turning his attention to Balin, who was waiting for his answer.

"Thank you, Balin. Tell him I'll be out in a minute," Bilbo said, his voice rough and weary even though he felt wide awake.

Balin nodded with a warm smile before ducking out of the room into the hallway. Bilbo grabbed his messenger bag from the bed and rummaged through it for something to make himself look more presentable. He found a red dress shirt that he pulled out and slipped on, buttoning it up so that it covered his wrinkled cotton shirt. He tried to flatten out his black trousers to no avail but figured that their dark color would hide any problems.

He attempted to fix his curls with his hands as he left his room but quickly gave up, pausing when he saw Thorin's door. The frame appeared splintered as if Thorin had slammed the door with all of his strength but it still managed to hold up. He knew he wouldn't be inside. Knowing Thorin, he'd already be at the meeting, impatiently waiting for everyone else to show up. He considered keeping him waiting just for that reason, and he would have, but he thought it rude to do the same to Gandalf.

Gandalf stood just outside the door at the end of the hall, waiting by the balcony railing in a crisp, grey suit. He smiled as Bilbo approached but didn't offer a word of greeting. Instead, he simply started to walk and expected Bilbo to follow. He kept pace well as they walked in the direction of the dining hall.

"How long will this meeting take?" Bilbo asked, glancing up at the old wizard.

"Not too long, I should think. Lord Elrond seems to know where the hidden information lies," he replied, his cane clacking on the floors with each step.

"I hope so," he muttered to himself.

They turned a corner and approached a pair of ornate double doors, painted white and decorated with golden trees. They opened of their own accord as they neared, allowing them to walk straight through into a darkened room with a large, windowless opening in the wall and a balcony. Moonlight poured through the open wall, bathing the darkness in a shimmering glow.

He easily spotted Thorin in a back corner of the room, staring intently at a spot on the wall beside the balcony. Elrond stood by the railing, almost basking in the cool light as he waited for the meeting to begin. It struck Bilbo how out of place he felt. Everyone else in the room held some importance; Elrond and Thorin were both basically kings and Gandalf was a great wizard.

"Why am I here?" Bilbo asked, voicing his concern.

"You're an important part of this plan, Bilbo. I wanted you here and I know Thorin does too, despite the disagreement you had," Gandalf said sagely, glancing down at him as they walked further inside.

The doors closed behind them, causing Bilbo to jump a little. He turned to see two tall, beautiful looking men making sure the doors were secure before taking up defensive positions in front of each one. Elrond also stirred at the sound, turning to see the arrival of the final two guests.

"I don't feel like I'm that important…" Bilbo mused.

"Thorin sought you out for a reason. You have a vital role to play, if you chose to play it."

"Can't you just give me a job description instead of riddles," Bilbo grumbled as Elrond approached.

"Mithrandir, Bilbo, so glad you could join us," Elrond said warmly.

He looked as kind as ever, no trace of the previous night's event anywhere on him. No trace of the wolf within, only the man. He smiled briefly before guiding the two of them over the balcony, only pausing to beckon Thorin along as well. Bilbo moved swiftly to place Gandalf between him and Thorin to avoid any unwelcome side-glances or glares. They formed themselves into a semicircle around Elrond as they all looked out onto the green grounds and the starry night sky.

People and wolves wandered and congregated below them, running, playing, laughing, and talking with one another. Bilbo almost envied them. The life of a werewolf seemed to be a lot nicer than the life of a vampire had been to him so far.

"Thorin, the map, if you'd be so kind," Elrond said, holding out his hand to him.

Bilbo snuck a glance in his direction, noting just how pale Thorin looked and the darkness of his eyes. His expression was set in a permanent scowl, not enjoying having to rely on a werewolf for help, he assumed. He had no doubt that his own presence at least played a small role in it as well. Thorin reluctantly reached inside of his leather jacket and produced an aged piece of folded paper. He held onto it tightly, allowing it to hover over Elrond's outstretched hand for a few moments, before finally dropping it. His expression looked pained to Bilbo, as if he was using every ounce of restraint not to snatch it back.

He turned his attention back to Elrond as he unfolded the map and scanned it thoroughly. "Why is it you need this information so desperately, exactly?"

Thorin opened his mouth to speak but Gandalf beat him to it. "It's not a desperate need. Our interest is purely educational but we knew you'd be the best person to inquire about it."

Elrond's expression appeared distinctly dubious, eyebrows raised in Gandalf's direction, but he didn't question it. "Lucky for us, we have a clear night to work with," he said, spreading out the map on the flat surface of the balcony railing.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Thorin growled.

"I've seen craftsmanship quite like this in my many years and I believe what we're dealing with are moon runes," Elrond explained, though the only person who recognized the term seemed to be Gandalf.

"Ah, yes," he said. "I should've known."

"What are moon runes?" Bilbo asked since Thorin wasn't about to.

"Special runes used by werewolves and vampires alike in order to hide passages. They are written by moonlight and can only be read when the moon is in the same stage of its cycle that it was written under. Luck seems to be with you, Thorin Oakenshield. The light of the newly waning moon is revealing the information you seek."

Thorin pushed his way beside Elrond to examine the glowing runes that began to appear. He squinted down at them, trying to decipher them and it seemed to Bilbo that he was failing. He frowned at the map, causing wrinkles to appear on his brow and in the corners of his eyes.

"Is this… Is this saying that the door to Erebor will only be able to open on one certain day?" Thorin asked, stumbling through the translation.

"Indeed it is. The full text reads: Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's day will shine upon the keyhole," Elrond said.

"That's not far from now…" Thorin said, deep in thought. He turned away from Elrond, taking a few absent-minded steps toward the back of the room as his mind worked to think of the exact date. "That's just a little less than a month."

"Well, we should easily be able to get there in less than a month," Bilbo scoffed.

Thorin's eyes shot up, meeting Bilbo's directly, the first time either of them had really looked at each other since the incident. They looked dark, bitter, staring at Bilbo as if he were a simple child. "You know nothing of the coming perils," he hissed.

Bilbo fumed, angry at being treated in such a way for something that wasn't his fault. "Well, I wasn't exactly given a fucking outline at the start of this. I wasn't even given a choice. You're lucky I'm still here to help you."

Thorin bared his teeth and snarled, a deep sound resonating in his throat. Bilbo remained unfazed, glaring him down until Thorin broke eye contact with him. In a huff, he grabbed the map from Elrond and stalked out of the room, easily throwing open the heavy doors before the guards had the chance to assist. Gandalf turned to Elrond, an apology on his lips, but Elrond held up his hand.

"No need. I'm far more concerned about this journey to Erebor you seem to be on. The path there is perilous in itself, but what if Smaug still lives?"

Gandalf frowned. "We can only hope that isn't the case. I've already promised my help where I can provide it. What happens when Thorin and his company reach their kingdom is out of my hands."

Elrond nodded, his face lined and grave. "We can refill your packs before you leave. I'm afraid that's all the help I can offer."

"It's more than enough," Gandalf replied, beckoning Bilbo to his side. "Your hospitality has been refreshing."

"You're more than welcome to return," he said before turning to Bilbo. "Or to stay, if you so choose. We could guide you home."

Bilbo's brow creased at the offer. It was tempting, extremely tempting, but a small part of him still didn't want to abandon the group, even if he did want to be away from Thorin. He shook his head. "Thank you, but no."

Elrond nodded courteously as Gandalf guided Bilbo out of the room. He only hoped he made the right choice, that staying with them would be worth it. He looked up at Gandalf for some kind of guidance or indication that he did the right thing, but he kept his gaze forward as they walked out of the open room. He led Bilbo down the hall, back toward the bedrooms, but Bilbo stopped and ducked out of his arm. Gandalf paused, turning to stare at him curiously.

"I'm going for a walk," Bilbo said, flashing him a half-hearted smile.

Gandalf nodded. "Just be sure to get some rest. Something tells me Thorin will want to leave at the next sundown."

"Thanks for the heads up," Bilbo said before turning to jog down the stairs.

He walked through the scarcely populated foyer and slipped on his shoes before walking out into the cool night air, closing the massive door behind him. He inhaled, savoring the sharp chill that inflated his lungs. It felt like a breath of life, reminding him that while he was technically dead, he wasn't in the ground.

A few young wolves, one of black fur and the other two white blond, approached him cautiously, sniffing him out to try and figure out what he was. Bilbo smiled at them, holding out his hand like he would to a dog and one of them pressed its cold, wet nose to it, startling Bilbo. Some of the werewolves in human form approached him as well, visibly wondering about the vampire happily consorting with werewolves.

"Hello," Bilbo said with a shy, hesitant smile.

The two people, a man and a woman, stared at each other, each one looking no older than twenty-five. "Hi," the woman offered, her hair a dark brown with blue eyes.

"What are you?" the red-haired man asked.

Bilbo was surprised by his forwardness but considered the question. "A vampire, I guess."

The wolves nudged their heads at his legs and waist, still smelling him.

The woman shook her head. "Not completely. You don't smell right."

Bilbo shrugged. "I'm in the process of becoming one."

"Yet you are calm and kind," the woman noted.

"I don't know why they hate you all so much. You seem nice enough to me."

The two glanced at each other knowingly, leaving Bilbo feeling confused. "It's good to see a civil vampire."

The woman bowed her head to him and Bilbo did the same before the two departed, the three wolves trailing after them. They left Bilbo with more than a few questions but there was nothing for him to do about them. He couldn't ask Thorin and he wasn't sure if any of the others would answer him without Thorin's approval. He stored his curiosity and confusion away for another time and continued on his walk, the strong, assaulting smell of wolf clouding around him.

He walked around the front of the building to the side where there was a well-kept pond and a few stone benches ten feet from its edge. On the center bench with his back to Bilbo sat a man with short dark hair and a black leather jacket. Recognizing him as Thorin, Bilbo stood back and watched as he sat forward, his back curving in a slouch with his elbows resting on his knees. Thorin ran his hands through his hair, slowly and searchingly, as if raking through his thoughts with his fingers.

Bilbo stopped moving and just watched for a minute, not wanting to approach him but not wanting to go back either. Both instincts warred within him, causing an inner turmoil that screamed from every pore. He hardly felt surprised when Thorin turned around, his harsh eyes falling upon him. He stood up abruptly and within a split second, he stood in front of Bilbo, moving almost faster than Bilbo's eyes could catch.

"Why are you watching me?" he growled. "I thought you wanted me gone."

"I wasn't," Bilbo spat back. "I just wanted to go for a walk."

Thorin's eyes didn't seem as angry as Bilbo had expected. The ice blue color seemed dull, clouded over with worry and sadness. The space between Bilbo's eyebrows crinkled at the sight. Thorin hesitated, baring his fangs in a clear sign of frustration. A low growl rumbled in his throat, sounding like a threat, though Bilbo knew it wasn't.

"Fine. I'll leave you to it," he said shortly. He turned and marched away, Bilbo watching him go, but after a few steps he paused thoughtfully and turned back. "You know, you are utterly ridiculous."

His exasperated and frustrated tone threw Bilbo off. His words faltered on his tongue like a person without control of their own feet. "Wh-what? I'm ridiculous? Says the man who mind-controlled me into doing something against my will!"

"It was for your own good and you damn well know that!" Thorin shouted, his pupils growing wider, blotting out the blue irises in his anger.

"I would've been fine, I just needed to rest," Bilbo said stubbornly. His expression wavered, the anger on his face breaking for half a second. He honestly didn't know if he would've been fine and it wasn't something he'd considered in the moment. He never considered it afterward either.

Thorin's nostrils flared out and Bilbo could hear him grinding his teeth. "No! You would have died," Thorin said, grabbing Bilbo by the front of his shirt and pulling him in so that their faces were inches apart. "Do you want to die, Bilbo? Because I could easily tear a chunk out of any of these trees and plunge it straight into your heart."

Bilbo's eyes widened, his mouth dropping open by mere centimeters. "Could you really?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Would it be so easy for you? Am I worth that little?"

Thorin's black pupils receded and he released Bilbo's shirt. Bilbo didn't move despite being let go. He simply stared Thorin in the eye until Thorin stepped back, glancing for a moment at his own feet before turning and walking away. The moment that Thorin was out of sight, Bilbo's stone-like resolve crumbled and he fell to the grass, leaning his back up against the palace wall.

His hands shook slightly, almost imperceptibly, as he entangled his fingers in his hair. The burning anger he felt flared up inside him, feeding off one last burst of oxygen before promptly dying out. The empty space it left behind filled with sadness, both toward Thorin and himself. For the first time in a while, he doubted his own self-worth, Thorin's words floating around in his mind. A part of him, the rational part, knew that Thorin wouldn't have killed him, even if Bilbo said that he wanted to die, but emotions were rarely rational.

He sat in the cold blades of grass, knees drawn up to his chest, for what felt like a long time until a figure passed by him, pausing when they noticed Bilbo's presence. The pair of legs stood in front of Bilbo for a moment until they knelt down, allowing him to see Bofur's face, brows knitted in concern. Bilbo sighed, knowing what was about to spill from Bofur's lips.

"I'm fine, okay? Nothing's wrong," Bilbo explained, picking himself up off the ground.

Bofur stood with him, his face softening as he nodded. "Of course. Just out for a walk then?"

Bilbo nodded as he brushed the dirt from his trousers.

"Mind if I join you?"

"No," Bilbo said, shaking his head. "Not at all."

Bofur waited for Bilbo to take the lead and kept pace at his side once he started moving. They walked in silence for few minutes as they passed by the dark pond before walking around to the back. Bilbo felt wary of his intentions, wondering what he might want from him, why he would be taking the time just to be there, but he never spoke a word.

"What do you want?" Bilbo finally asked as they walked at the edge of the forest where a few young wolves bayed to the moon.

"What do you mean?" Bofur asked, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. He looked up at the glowing moon rather than Bilbo's face.

"Why are you here, with me?" he clarified.

"You seemed like you needed some company and it's not my place to pry," he said with a shrug of his shoulders before looking down at Bilbo.

Bilbo stared up at him, his eyes appearing warm and kind and he nodded, believing him. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

Bofur nodded with a smile and they continued on, talking about anything Bilbo brought up like how comfortable the beds were and how little he missed his job. Bilbo felt the stress of everything that had been building on his shoulders lighten a little with each step until they reached the front doors once more.

Bilbo hesitated, hand on the doorknob. "I think I'm going to head up to bed."

Bofur nodded. "Best to pack up your things beforehand. Thorin will want to leave as soon as we're all awake."

"Thanks," Bilbo said with a nod before heading inside.

He dropped his shoes off beside the door and walked up the stairs, avoiding everyone he passed on the way. After a few minutes, he was back in his room, shoving clothes into his bag before closing it tightly. He left it on the bed and lay down beside it, ready to leave at any moment, ready to keep going until it was all done and over with.

Sleep didn't come easily. The moon still hung high and the vigor of the night still rushed through his veins. He could've found something to pass the time, writing, sparring, or even a card game but he just wanted to be alone and far away from his thoughts. Sleep didn't come easily but Bilbo remained persistent and stubborn until it bent to his will and he dropped away, sleeping through the night from want alone and through the day from necessity.

A slamming on his door woke him as the sun was close to completely setting. Bilbo groaned, rolling over in his soft sheets, wanting to keep sleeping despite already sleeping for so long. He buried his face in one of the cool, soft pillows until the knocks occurred again, louder and with more urgency. Reluctantly, he kicked off the covers and rolled out of bed, his messenger bag firmly clasped in one hand. He dragged his body and the bag to the door before throwing it open.

Thorin stood on the other side, his face stoic as he looked Bilbo over. He appeared wide awake and ready to go, dressed with his backpack slung over his shoulder. "Good," he said. "You're ready to go. Go wait by the stairs with the others."

He didn't wait for Bilbo to respond before moving on to the next door, knocking fervently until it creaked open. Bilbo sighed, shaking his head as he pulled the strap of his bag over his head. He slipped by Thorin and out onto the second floor where Fili and Kili stood, talking casually about something that was making Kili laugh. They instantly shut up as soon as they noticed Bilbo approaching.

"What are you two talking about?" Bilbo asked, his curiosity peaked.

"Oh, er, nothing really. Fili was just telling me a joke," Kili said, rubbing the back of his neck along with a few low hanging curls.

Fili couldn't restrain a smile. "Yeah, it was a pretty good one. I'd tell it to you but I think our uncle would get angry at us."

A few unrestrained giggles left Kili's mouth before he regained his composure, leaving Bilbo more confused than ever. Bilbo shook his head, choosing to ignore them rather than press on. A strong feeling told him they wouldn't fully explain themselves even if he did push. They waited as groggy and wakeful vampires alike poured from their rooms on Thorin's demand until they all stood by the top of the stairs, awaiting their next instruction.

Rather than instruct, Thorin simply exited the hall of rooms behind the last man leaving and marched down the stairs, expecting everyone to follow. They did exactly that, following in a single file line, Bilbo at the very end right behind Gandalf. They slipped on their shoes at the door and walked out wordlessly into the early night air, the sky still tinged with red toward the horizon.

They didn't pause to say goodbye to anyone, though Bilbo did stop a moment and look up at the palace, saying a silent goodbye and hoping to live to see it again. The group merely passed through the arch and began to pack into the old, black van.

"Where are we headed now?" Bilbo asked Gandalf, knowing he would receive only silence from Thorin, not that he wanted to ask him at all.

Gandalf paused, looking through the trees as if he could see something on the other side of them. "We're headed toward the mountains. It's not exactly the safest route, but certainly the fastest. It should only take two nights, though we will have to abandon our vehicles along the way."

"Why?" Bilbo said, looking up at him.

"Because the road will become far too narrow," Gandalf replied as he opened the driver's side door of his car.

Bilbo nodded before looking at the open doors to the back of the van. He rolled his shoulders, working out any kinks before preparing himself for a night trapped in the cramped space. He climbed in after Nori and Ori, carving out a space next to the doors just before Bofur slammed them shut. The van vibrated as the key turned in the ignition and they lurched forward, driving through the arch and taking a sharp left onto a narrow dirt path that the wolves used on their hunts.

The branches slapped against the windows and the sides of the van as they slowly drove through and everyone in the back with the exception of Bilbo began to sing in a language Bilbo didn't understand. What he did understand was that it lifted their spirits as they belted out the song with smiles on their faces. Bilbo couldn't help but smile too.

They rumbled along as they sung from their hearts and the road grew narrower. After a few hours, the van slowed to a crawl until it finally stopped.

"All right everyone, we can't go any further," Thorin announced, his voice echoing through the van. "It's time to grab our packs and walk."

Without grumbling, Bilbo and Ori pushed open the van doors and they all piled out, packs over their shoulders or on their backs. They inched around the sides of the van, scraping past the trees until they stood on the other side, staring down a dark tunnel of a road. Bilbo couldn't fathom how mountains could be at the end of it.

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Bilbo criticized as Thorin passed by him.

Thorin stopped in his tracks and turned to him. "I'm positive. I can read a fucking map."

Bilbo shrugged, scowling at him when he turned his back. Fili and Kili both patted Bilbo on the back before following after their uncle, everyone else following after them. He felt tempted to start walking back, return to the wolves, return home, but he'd made his choice and he knew it. They marched on, fighting through the forest against the branches and leaves that smacked them in their faces, arms, and legs. They left behind tiny scratches that healed almost immediately and even Bilbo's slowly began to scab over right before his eyes.

A good hour of walking led them to an increasingly wider road and sparser trees. It felt like a relief to be able to take a step without bumping into something or someone. Bilbo could even look up and see a few stars peeking through the treetops. The ground beneath them turned from soft dirt to a hard, rocky path until he could finally see the base of a steep climb in the distance. The mountain. A mountain in the middle of a forest in Somewhere, Europe. Bilbo suddenly felt like he stood in a place where no mortals have treaded.


End file.
